SECRETS
by CajunBelle
Summary: Reposted thanks to a reader, this had almost 500 reviews before deletion. Unsure if I'll finish. What if, after everything, Rogue had gained control of her powers at an early age? What if she'd simply decided not to tell? But that's not her only secret...
1. Part One

**Secrets**

**A/N:** Hey y'all. I'm re-posting this story thanks to a reader, Lisa Wilmot, because (unfortunately enough, as I've tried to explain) I forgot the rule about not posting Authors Notes and the original 'Secrets' was deleted. Not to mention the disk I'd had it saved on mysteriously disappeared, so her saving the story offline to read it and sending it to me is the reason this is here today, lol. And what made me even sadder, is that I had almost 300 reviews before it was deleted and now I'm starting over new ((tears)) lol. Is it awful of me to be so regretful of that? Anyways, thanks for reading and bear with me.

**Summary:** What if, after everything she went through, Rogue had gained control of her powers at an early age? And what if she simply decided not to tell anyone? But that wouldn't be the only secret she's been hiding from the world. In this story, I pretty much just shifted the whole 'Evolution' storyline down in time and made this about three years into the future as well (I don't know how far exactly since I don't think they said how old Rogue was at the end of the series). You'll figure it out. And in addition, Rogue and the rest didn't run into Gambit or any of the other Acolytes yet, though this starts just before 'Day of Reckoning'. Just imagine if Rogue didn't know Gambit was the enemy, or future enemy, and they met in New Orleans...

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Part One**

Rogue strolled through the doors of the dark, sultry little New Orleans nightclub, going straight to the bar as she'd been doing for the past few weeks. With just a signal to the bartender, she got her favorite drink in minimal time. They knew her here. And though, at nineteen, she was years away from being legal, it never mattered. She'd more than deserved the privilege- and not just for putting her life on the line all these years with the X-men. Taking a sip of the smooth, savory bourbon, she chuckled.

All these years she'd been taking two months away from being a student and an X-man to come here on her motorcycle (with nobody able to stop her); and everyone had been saying how much like the Wolverine she was- but no one had any clue just how much. Well, except maybe the professor and Jean, but she had really tough mental shields and they were getting stronger each day- the very fact that hadn't been repeatedly called to Xaviers' office over the years or so lectured by Jean for her sins was testament to her growing abilities. Knocking back the rest of the glass, she quickly got another one and smiled gratefully at the understanding bartender- who was a fellow mutant and a confidant.

Rogue knew the shots would keep on coming as long as she wanted (or as much as was safe), with little cost, but she only needed a few. The first time she'd come in there he'd asked, 'What are you trying to forget?' so softly and concerned. His voice alone inspired her to respond- and when she turned to meet his gaze there was no thought to brush his questions away. So she'd tossed back a drink, gave him a wry smile, and answered, 'The world. Just the world.' And his perception had been surprising. Even more so the hidden wisdom in his eyes, though he never said a word. But she soon realized that there wasn't enough alcohol, wasn't enough power, for what she wanted.

So she just settled for forgetting her life, doing the best she could. And here, for the two months she took for herself, she was someone else. Or maybe, for once, her true self. She didn't know anymore- but that suited her just fine. Plunking her glass down with a blessedly light feeling and that warming sensation in her stomach, she moved out onto the dance floor as a new song began. In doing so she let her now shoulder-length hair down, closed her eyes, and gave over to the rhythm. Here there was no X-men, no pain or responsibility or fear. Here there was no Rogue; there was only Marie. And she was free.

All eyes were on her as she flowed with the music, blending her own style with that which she subconsciously still had from Kitty to hypnotize with her darkly sensual movements. And an enchantresses' half-smile lifted her full red lips, knowing that she made more than half of them sweat. They were the same ones who had been watching her every night, along with some new ones. But they weren't who Marie danced for now as she swayed and undulated, her wide, smoky green eyes occasionally opening to capture those of a chosen few as the night rolled on. No, more often than not it was for herself.

Though as she danced, her mind expanded to encompass the entire club, using the powers she's absorbed from Jean and learned to control. As it did, touching all the minds there, she found a soul that blew her away, a man unlike any other she'd ever encountered save one. He was here; the mysterious, sparkling light that had drawn her here so many times before only to leave her in the dark. So she danced for him, sight unseen, until her song wound down and melted into another from an almost endless stream of music. Then her eyes opened again and her hands drifted reluctantly back to her sides as she stood there just a moment longer in the soft glow of the spotlight, pleasantly flushed, before strolling back to her seat.

And as she sipped at the cool liquid of her drink, Maries' now sparkling orbs scanned the room, pausing to flirt as the guys who'd been admiring her were given the chance to stop her off the floor and entice her. The technique might've been completely not her style, at the other end of the scale in fact, but who was to say it wasn't just her speed? A huntress' speed. Getting a refill on the icy margarita she usually switched to after hours of dancing, she sensually pressed it to her heated skin, eyes fluttering shut for just a moment. But hearing gasps from both near her and across the room, she groaned almost inaudibly while lifting heavy lids, glass still pressed to her face.

That's when Marie saw the tall, auburn-haired man with a goatee and sleek, dark shades coming towards her. She judged him to be at least three years older than her and as hardened by the years as she was. A dream formerly veiled by shadows. And she couldn't tear her gaze from him as it seemed fixated there. Something struck her then, deep inside, and she knew he had to be the one her mind had found and her soul recognized as its match. She also knew that she wouldn't be taking any of those men around her back to her hotel room this trip. She couldn't. Eyes locked even through the barrier over his eyes, the stranger came to stand in front of her and just wordlessly held out his hand, compelling her.

Everyone around her knew him well, at least by reputation; they feared him or were enchanted by him or both, but she wouldn't listen to anything their minds were subconsciously whispering to hers. As if in a trance, she set her drink down on the counter and stepped forward to take the pro-offered hand, letting him lead her back onto the floor. The crowd parted and, in an odd coincidence, as lower song came on, giving them both an excuse to put their arms around each other. Not that she'd really needed one. And while they danced, faces close, she saw the sexy tilt of his lips that told her over anything else that he was the one who had ordered the slow dance. For them.

With her secret smile, Marie lifted her head from his shoulder where it had rested a second before, brushing her lips across his cheek as her fingers floated up to the side of his head. As if he somehow caught on to what she was going to do, his hand came up the same time she grasped his shades, wanting to see the eyes she knew he hid from the world. But he was too late and she was standing there holding the sunglasses as he held her wrist, tense, like he was waiting for her reaction to his extraordinary red-on-black eyes. Then she smiled slowly, tucking the shades into the inner breast pocket of his worn brown trench coat and pressing herself closer to his lean, muscled body. Thus turning the tables on him.

She'd known that he was special, that he would've had to be a mutant too- she knew that the same way she'd known that she would someday find him here in New Orleans. Well, not so much him as the answer to her unhappiness and her own fulfillment, which he was. The man relaxed, exhaling, and wrapped his arms tighter around her, fingers smoothing back her hair. "Chére, you sho' know how to make a mans' heart beat faster," he laughed softly in her ear. "Marie," she whispered breathily, nuzzling his neck. "My name is Marie." Her heart pounded erratically as she breathed in his warm, spicy scent, skipping a beat at the husky sound of his laugh. He smiled, his long fingers stroking her cheek, and her eyelids fluttered as her breathing sped up.

That was another of her many secrets- she'd been able to control her powers for over two years now. But she still kept it from everyone, denying herself touch away from her two months in New Orleans to maintain that tough, untouchable façade, to protect herself in a way. Though her hunger was stronger than ever now that the one thing she wanted was within reach. "Marie," he repeated almost on a sigh, the way he said her name a caress on its own. Her heart just about stopped at the look in his beautiful eyes. "De name is Remy," the object of her desires imparted on her. "Remy LeBeau." His name rolled through her mind, settled on her tongue rich and sweet. It fit him perfectly. She couldn't imagine him as anything but that. And his accent... Marie shivered. Remy LeBeau.

"The beautiful one," she murmured, trailing her fingers from the corded muscles of his chest to his strong shoulders to his handsome face before sliding to his thick auburn hair. "You speak French, chérie?" he asked with a grin. "Fluently," she answered throatily, eyes fixed hungrily on his lips. To punctuate her statement, she pulled him close and pressed her lips to his in a passionate kiss. He groaned and brought her even tighter against him, one hand on her lower back, and swallowed her gasp as she keenly felt the hard length of him. "Maybe we should get out of here," she panted, head spinning.

Remy's eyes were smoldering as he just watched her for a moment, equally dazed. Then he laughed, his smile dazzling. "Oui," he said on a breath, running a hand through his already tousled hair. "Bien sur, let's go." He took her hand, fingers threading with hers as he took a cursory look around. Then his gaze returned to hers, and she could've sworn the glint there was almost possessive before it disappeared again; Remy sliding his shades back on, a slight smirk on his lips. "Remy's motorcycle is jus' outside." "Motorcycle," she repeated with a nod. Even better. She found it just added to his considerable charm that he spoke in third person. Odd how little things that would've put her off before, with other guys, seemed like nothing when it came to Remy.

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So how'd y'all like the first chapter? I'll try to update soon, as long as I can keep it al flowing. Reviews are definitely appreciated as always- after all, what would the story be without the fans right? ((bribes early reviewers with cookies)) lol. K, enough of that. Later everybody, CajunBelle. 


	2. Part Two

**Secrets**

**A/N: **This is where all the good stuff happens ((wink)) and I tend to get detailed, so if you're squeamish, skip ahead, lol.

**PartTwo**

In a heartbeat Marie was on the back of his red and black bike, feeling its' power beneath her in a steady hum as her arms rose to encircle his waist. Though her hotel was fairly close, which is why they were headed there, the ride was exquisite torture for both of them. But Marie subconsciously rubbed against him, seeking to be closer still and breathing in his heady scent of warm spices and cigarettes. He was radiating heat like a furnace and suddenly it seemed like she was so cold..."Chére, yo' killin' me," he groaned, hands tensing on the handlebars. "Me too, hurry," she gasped out. And he did. They were lucky they weren't pulled over for going thirty miles or more over the limit.

But finally they made it to her hotel and raced up to her room, stumbling into her door, which happened to be unlocked. "Very dangerous, petite," he murmured, his words a whisper against her lips. "I know," she said with a choked half-moan before their lips were fused together once more, neither really caring as it meant they could do what they were driven to do all the faster. Some small part of her mind yelled that this was wrong, that she'd just met him, that this way far different from all those other nights with other guys before she met him, but it was quickly silenced. She needed this; _they_ needed this. It was as vital as her next breath, and she'd been holding her breath so long... It was instinct, their bodies ever seeking closer contact, her kissing him with a passion she had never quite felt before, not with anyone.

She opened her mouth to allow his probing tongue further entry and mewled with pleasure as sensation coursed through her. Remy took her mouth fiercely, relishing her cries, and the way she moved against him. He pulled back slightly and looked down at her, the corners of his mouth turning up in a small smile when she whimpered at the loss of his touch. Her eyes were closed, her skin was flushed, and her swollen lips were parted as she gasped for air. "Is this what you want?" he asked softly, voice rough with passion. She nodded once and he crushed his lips back down on hers. Remy kissed down her neck, pushing the thin straps of her shirt down ahead of the trial his mouth was making.

Marie threw her head back, giving him access to her throat, her breathing becoming even more ragged with each kiss and touch. Wanting to feel his body and cause the same reactions in him as he was causing within her, she moved her hands up to push the trenchcoat from his shoulders and down his arms. As if sensing her wish, he broke the kiss long enough to yank his tight black shirt over his head and toss it to the floor before returning his mouth to her neck and shoulders. Marie's hands roved across his back, smoothing the satin and steel planes while he removed her top, exposing her beautiful, perfect breasts to his gaze. He sat back and stared at her bare form for a long moment, smoothly tossing his shades to the growing pile of clothes.

She blushed, feeling the odd urge to cover herself and Remy shook his head as if knowing what she was thinking, taking her hands and entwining their fingers as he eased her gently back onto the bed. "You're beautiful," he murmured huskily, allaying her fears. He lowered his head and tenderly kissed her breasts, Marie arching off the bed, pushing herself more forcefully against him. Remy held her hands on either side of her, not allowing her to touch him, and to Marie it felt like sweet torture- though he knew if she touched him now he'd be lost. He turned his attention to her other breast and she had to bite her lip to keep from crying out as intense pleasure shot through her.

After several more minutes when she thought that she'd scream if he didn't let her touch him, Remy raised his head and kissed her soundly, releasing her hands so that he could run his fingers through her lush mahogany hair. Before she could do any of the things she'd been plotting for the last ten minutes, however, he broke the kiss, smiled wickedly at her, and then moved further down the bed. "Remy?" she breathed, missing the contact with his skin and not fully understanding what he meant to do. She raised her head from the pillow and watched him slowly ease the tight, black leather pants from her body. "Oh!" she whispered, her head falling back as she realized his intentions and shivered. Remy chuckled as he ran his hands back up her legs, lightly brushing the inside of her thighs, before moving back to her hips and repeating the whole process with her panties.

Marie panted heavily as Remy gently pushed her legs apart and smoothed his hands back up her thighs, his thumbs brushing gently over her aching core. "Please," she begged as the feelings welled inside her, screamed for release. With a triumphant grin of masculine pride, Remy lowered his head towards her throbbing center and strangled cry rose in her throat. Her hips flew off the bed when, unceasing in his ministrations, he lapped greedily at the wetness between her legs, and her hands clenched in his hair as he brought her to a shattering climax. He continued to lick and suck until the feelings became too much to bear and her fingers tightened, gently tugging in a silent demand. Then with a grin he captured her lips again, conquering.

Running her hands down his back, Marie pulled him down onto her, wriggling her hips to let him know what she wanted. She moaned deeply in the back of her throat as his erection rubbed against her moist entrance and he pulled back slightly, locking eyes with her as his hips plunged into her, the pleasure blinding her and deafening her while it blew her apart. His eyes squeezed shut and his jaw clenched when her heat engulfed him and her head thrashed wildly on the pillow, vaginal muscles clamping around him as he brought her to orgasm. Remy gritted his teeth, not wanting to lose control too fast, but knowing he wasn't going to hang on much longer. Not with her. He moved as gently as he could within her, building a rhythm, which she caught quickly.

They lay nose-to-nose, staring into each others' eyes as the tension built between them and Remy quickened the pace, causing Marie to buck wildly against him. She was burning up, colored lights flashing behind her closed eyelids. "Marie!" he groaned as he climaxed, continuing to move within her, forcing her off the edge once more. Then she actually saw fireworks, a tear slipping down her cheek unchecked and unrealized as she swore she felt their very souls fuse. They lay together, still joined and slick with sweat, until their breathing calmed. Remy then gently eased out of her and rolled onto his back, pulling her with him so that she was cradled against his chest.

She saw the glowing embers of a southern sun still in his eyes, heard the strains of sultry jazz from just outside, and could not even imagine enjoying such appealing sights and sounds again without longing for him to share it. Though she knew he might not remain with her physically (in fact knew it as a certainty right then) he would forever live inside her heart, claim a part of it, and she didn't know whether to celebrate that conviction with every breath and sigh or curse it. But then the small peace he had given her washed through her, and she sensed it spilling over onto him as both their eyes slowly closed in the first real sleep both had enjoyed for a long time.

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A ringing by her head woke Rogue up a bit earlier than she would've usually, so she opened her eyes to see her coat still lying at the end of the bed where she'd thrown it the previous night and the cellphone Xavier insisted she have was active. 'I thought I turned that thing off again yesterday morning,' she broke in sourly. Retrieving it, she sat up with a jerk, wholly freaked-out about seeing Remy still there. Feeling a shiver run down her spine the same time a cold steel fist gripped her heart, she hurriedly scooped up her clothes with wide eyes and padded over to the bathroom.

Answering the cellphone only after she slipped into her underwear at the very least, she heard the professors' voice, though the connection was bad. "Why'd you call so early?" she asked, voice roughened by sleep as well as irritation though it was near twelve o' clock noon. "Rogue... we need you... ...trouble... Wolverine...captured... mansion is..." the crackly voice came over the speaker. Wide awake and panicked now, she shouted, "...Is what! Professor!" But the line went dead. Emotions storming through her and giving her a decidedly bad, nauseated feeling, she haphazardly pulled on the rest of her outfit and returned to the bedroom area in a daze.

Remy was just starting to stir as, with an ache in her heart, she ran a tender hand along his face, subconsciously activating her powers. His powers and memories and life force flooded her even with her light touch as he fell back; her stepping away with teary eyes and assimilating it all-glad even as she was wondering why she did it. He'd always truly be a part of her, even if she let his psyche fade. But she closed her eyes and her heart as she turned away from where he was, finding her still unpacked bag and shoving the few items she'd had scattered about inside.

"Looks like I'm going back to the mansion three weeks early," Rogue choked out in a dry attempt at humor, lips quirking though her eyes were red. Cursing her weak will, she took one last, lingering look at the bed, then hurried out the door before she could change her mind and do something drastic. Though she wasn't sure she could call the mansion home now, as she discovered her heart was somewhere else, the X-men were still her family and they needed her. But, unknown to her, Remy had just fought his way out of unconscious as the door closed on her back, the cry he made of her name unheeded.

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	3. Part Three

**Secrets**

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**Part Three**

3 months later-

(Around 'Self-Possessed')

They called that day so long ago, the day she had left her heart in New Orleans, the Day of Reckoning. So very much had happened then, even more in the hours it took her to get back here without breaks. Wolverine was captured by mutant haters who experimented on him and was barely saved in time, Defkon4 was activated by someone and the mansion was blown up, a Sentinel was released to destroy them all, Professor X disappeared, and the world found out about mutants. They managed to survive in spite of all that, in spite of the Juggernaut getting loose, and the mansion was rebuilt thanks to substantial amounts of money and a team of mutants- they were even allowed back at school, but their lives were changed forever.

Once again the untouchable Rogue though she couldn't forget that one New Orleans night, the stripe-haired girl strolled through the mansion, bypassing the rec. room where Jean and Scott sat to flop down in the empty library. Removing her leather gloves, she lay there for at least half an hour just staring at her no longer deadly hands. One more secret she kept from everyone. Then she started to think of all the boys she'd pushed away in the past two years or so, using her powers as an excuse. They'd all noticed the slow changes in her; with her long hair, light make-up and brighter, more daring clothes, her more approachable/amiable attitude. Except her recent irritability, tiredness, and mood swings.

Then Rogue laughed softly to herself out of irony when she remembered just how close she'd gotten to Scott, how he'd actually liked her as more than a teammate and friend at first. She'd had plenty of chances to touch him after she joyfully discovered that she could control her powers, had plenty of chances to be with him before him and Jean became an item. But however long she'd believed she loved him, as much as she'd prayed for control so she could touch him, something happened. She had realized that she didn't want him that way anymore, hadn't for a long while. Then she'd had another chance at love with Bobby before she had, with the right degree of sadness, broke up with him "due to her powers."

But she was still wondering why she kept her uncelebrated secret- wondering why she still kept the isolated identity of Rogue though she yearned to once again be the carefree girl she'd been before her powers. The girl, that now only existed those two months a year in New Orleans. At the thought of New Orleans, the emotions and memories it evoked, as harp pain shot through her head and the insensible murmuring of all the personalities in her head grew to a shout. She cried out, eyes tearing, and she clutched her head with sparking hands as the chair across from her exploded. Her breath coming in short pants, she was whimpering softly, eyes squeezed shut, close to ten minutes_. Rogue, are you alright?_ She heard Xavier ask telepathically.

She swiped at the tears running down her face, swallowing past the pain. _Fine, Professor. Feeling his disbelief, she added, It's just my powers. Even with all our training, I've had a harder time controlling all these personalities. But I'm better now._ She could almost hear him sigh, then a long moment passed without words, as if he were processing something. Alright, Rogue. Then assemble to the war room. There is trouble with the Acolytes and Brotherhood again Rogue forced down the rising nausea that had been her constant companion this past month and got up, a cold knot in the pit of her stomach as she put her gloves back on. Steeling herself, she left the room ready for battle. As always.

Rogue was the first one off the plane, eyes wary as she stalked into the midst of the combined evil groups of mutants. She'd heard that Magneto had added a powerful new mutant to the force of elite fighters so titled the Acolytes- but nothing was known of him but his codename so they had to be careful. As the growing team of X-men squared off, she heard footsteps behind her. "Looks like you be stuck wit' Gambit, chérie." She felt a familiar chill down her spine along with an equally familiar coldness as she very slowly turned around, the sad look in her eyes gut-wrenching. "Marie," came his shocked whisper, the kinetically charged card between his fingers fluttering to the ground.

She watched it explode with a strange apathy, swallowing to speak past the lump in her throat. "The name is Rogue here, Gambit," she said softly, a sudden breeze freeing a few strands of hair from the loose ponytail at her back. She should've searched the memories she'd taken, should've recalled that Remy LeBeau's codename was Gambit- when he was 'working' at least. The auburn-haired man shook his head. "Not with me," he said just as softly. "How long?" he then asked. And she knew he meant how long she'd known she was a mutant, how long she'd been with the X-men. "I've been with the X-men for four years, and a mutant for just a year more than that," she sighed, walking closer as she seemed to round on him.

"And you wondered why I was so ready to accept your eyes," she finished with a humorless tilt of her lips. There was confusion in those beautiful red-on-black eyes now. "A telepath?" he questioned, reaching out to touch her. She leapt back out of habit as well as purpose, looking at his fingerless gloves that were stilled on a pack of cards. "Can't do that now," she chided. "But no, I'm not a telepath, not exactly." Rogue enjoyed his apparent puzzlement, his frustration, and didn't say another word for a while as they circled each other. He reached for her again and she leapt back as before.

"I'd be more careful if I were you," she taunted. "With one touch your thoughts, memories, life force, even your powers could become mine. And I can't control it." She said that last part more for the benefit of her teammates, and that seemed obvious as he made his next move. Some odd light came into his eyes and with a speed fitting the Prince of Thieves, he snagged her wrist and pulled her straight flush against him before she even had time to blink, stroking her bare wrist. "Remy t'inks yo' lyin', chére," he breathed, hearing her heart kick up a notch. "You controlled it jus' fine in N'Orleans."

There was a brewing storm in her eyes and a sudden wind kicked up mysteriously as electric energy crackled in the air around her and the skies gave out a warning growl. "Maybe I can," she sneered, derision made plain in her voice, "And maybe I can't. That's one in a long line of secrets you can never hope to find out." She could practically feel the anger emanating from him just before he captured her lips in a fierce kiss- then she moaned, throwing herself into the kiss as the heat of his anger flamed into searing desire, adding to her own. She'd never let go of him. But she ended it, activating her powers and draining enough off him that he pulled away dizzily.

"Just a lil' reminder," she smirked with frosty tones, her southern voice laced with his own Cajun French inflections. She took one of his cards and charged it. "Now don't ya think we should get to fightin'?" Rogue keenly felt the pain radiating from him with his empathic powers even though he quickly masked it, just as good as she was with that. Then he countered with his own question, "Why'd you leave?" Shock hit her system. 'Wow, that was blunt,' she thought, momentarily taken aback. Her gaze skimmed over his face, tripping on his eyes, and saw that he was almost as surprised as she was about that question popping out like that. She schooled her features, just raising a brow in spite of the slight stirring in her stomach.

"Why are you trying to make it something more than it was?" she said callously. "It was just a one-night stand." She fought a wince as she forced cruel sincerity into her voice and expression. With a merciless smile, she traced his jawline with one finger. "Come on Gambit, really, you should know what that's like. I do. I have you in my head now, remember?" Before he could see how badly she wanted to take everything back, Rogue turned on a heel and walked away, tossing the charged card she'd almost forgotten behind her.

"Don't bother following me out," her voice echoed on the wind. She was silent and withdrawn on the way back to the mansion, except for the emotionless rote of information on this new enemy. By herself she wondered how she'd ever been able to go through with that whole ordeal feeling weak as she'd been feeling. But she was grateful, as she dragged herself up the stairs. The last thing Rogue ever wanted was to appear weak in front of Remy after what happened. Then the nausea hit her double time. Clutching her stomach, she subconsciously used her stolen abilities of super strength and speed to get to the bathroom. In her ten minutes or so of sitting on the cool tile floor in from of the toilet and vomiting, she silently thanked God that at least she hadn't had her period to add to this sickness and misery.

And that's when it all struck her, eyes staring blindly into space and ears deafened to the concerned cries of her teammates outside. Searching inside herself, Rogue suddenly felt even worse as two thoughts resonated. One, 'How am going to explain this when I'm supposed to be untouchable/ How long can I possibly keep it a secret?' And two, 'Oh my God, I'm pregnant.' Some wild, inescapable force rose inside her then, carrying with a cart-full of emotion and a terrifying lack of control. Sobbing, she tore through the doorway, her powers manifesting themselves in a terrible way as her teammates tried to hold her back; and as they fell to the ground unconscious she bypassed the front doors. Then screaming in agony as the power ripped through her, she fell to her knees, giving in to all the personalities that had been tearing her apart for days.

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	4. Part Four

**Secrets**

**Part Four**

1 week later-

It's down to this

I've got to make my life make sense

Can anyone tell what I've done

Rogue lay curled up on her side in the med lab bed, eyes tightly shut, and swallowing repeatedly to keep the ever-present sickness down. Tears wet her face as a sudden burst of anger made her punch her pillow. She hated feeling so weak- from almost dying as those personalities took over, in addition to the pregnancy she hated to acknowledge. And she'd been in that bed for a week. But she couldn't bear the thought of her teammates shocked looks, their whispers, their questions. She could barely stand Dr. McCoy's/Beast's kind understanding and concern after he found out, but he was needed. So she simply asked him, and Xavier who she couldn't fool or ignore, to keep the others away. Even Logan, who'd saved her life more than once that dreadful day. 'Who was too scared and worried for her that night to realize that they had been touching skin to skin without her powers activating,' Rogue thought with a wry, tender smile.

I miss the life

I miss the colors of the world

Can anyone tell where I am?

Listening to the 3 Doors Down song, 'Away From The Sun' on headphones, she wondered how she'd let her life become so very grey, so messed up. This band wasn't the dark, heavy metal/grunge stuff everyone expected her to like, so they were another secret of hers- just one of the many she had to keep to maintain her mask, her safety net. Yet it almost surprised her how much it fit sometimes. But when she heard those three particular lines she shut the portable CD player off with an angry snap and yanked the headphones from her head to slam them to the floor. They suddenly reminded her too much of that annoying, charming Cajun.

I'm so far down away from the sun

That shines to light the way for me To find my way back into the arms

That care about the ones like me.

Because he _did _care. She couldn't explain it; and she couldn't understand why she cared too, but she did. And, God help her, he was like the sun toher. A cold gust of wind blew in and she groaned, slowly pushing herself out of bed and over to the balcony doors. She'd forgotten that she left them open. To punish herself? So the cold would snap her back to reality? Or just hopeful? Rogue wondered with a wry twist of her lips, closing the cool glass panes and brushing back the fluttering silk curtains. "Chére." Her heart stopped but she refused to turn around and face that voice until he came up behind her and put his hands on her shoulders. Instantly she was flooded with warmth and light, that feeling like returning home, and she cursed his empathic powers.

'What's wrong with me?' she cried mentally. 'It was just one night. It was just _supposed to be_ one night.' She shivered, 'And yet now I got this whole new secret _our _secret. And it's changing me.' "Gambit." She said almost stubbornly, looking up into his wonderfully unique red-on-black eyes tentatively. His face was so clear, yet so unreadable. If only…. _Mon ame estaffamee pour son allumette_ his mind whispered achingly in French. Rogue pulled away, reeling, but the thoughts flew at her again. _Chaque jours sans toi de je davantage._ My soul is starved for its match. Each day without you I ache more. He said none of the things he was thinking of, but it didn't take away their impact. They took away her breath.

"So formal," Remy said with an empty smile that didn't quite reach his eyes, the way he came towards her almost predatory. She fought such telling gestures as letting her hand flutter down to her stomach. "I don't know any other way to be," she replied with a matching smile, stepping back with wide-spread arms and spinning around slowly. "This is who I am." "No," he stated firmly as he caught her wrist, pulling her to him and kissing her fervently in one smooth move. "It's not." He pressed her resisting body tighter against his more demanding one, letting her feel every hard inch of him. "Why do you hide?" he murmured, lips coming down on hers again and again.

Remy's kisses were passionate, forceful, and she matched Remy move for move-once more in fierce competition as they dueled with each other, _for _each other. With a soft cry, Marie melted into his embrace, kissing him back with everything she had in her as she surrendered to him. The heat was a palpable thing, running through her fingertips as she gripped his shoulders through the soft black cotton of his shirt, down her veins, burning like a glass of neat whisky on a frosty afternoon. Suddenly, almost as if changing her mind, she broke the contact, stepping back again, and she felt his cry of denial. But he didn't move this time, didn't say a word. He just waited. For her. She wondered how long his patience would last. Not much longer than hers.

Marie took a step towards him, knowing she wouldn't run this time. "I don't want…" she began, then stopped. "Don't want what? This?" She shook her head.

"I don't want to need you." She heard his sudden intake of breath on a split second, could've sworn she felt his heart jolt inside her chest. "Can you stop?" If possible, his already smoldering midnight eyes darkened on hers. "No." Marie reached up and put her hand against his mouth, and his lips were warm, burning. She wanted that mouth on her body. Remy kissed her hand gently, then reached out to take her other hand, bringing it slowly towards him, giving her plenty of chance to pull back. He placed it on his chest, over his heart, against his skin.

She could feel the beat of his pulse, heavy, sensual, slightly fast against her hand. The stripe-haired girl crossed the final step, coming up to his larger, hotter body and trapping their clasped hands between them. She moved her hand away from his lips and slid her fingers through his thick auburn hair, looking for answers in his dark, fathomless eyes. But the answers weren't there to see, so she could either run or trust. And she decided she wasn't going to run, not again. Remy leaned down and kissed her then, very gently, a wordless assurance that it was going to be alright. And she realized that, conscious decision or not, she trusted him. With her life, with her body, maybe even with her love.

She opened her mouth beneath his, deliberately inviting him. Then the gently wooing was over. The heat that had been slumbering in his body flared up, and his mouth slanted across hers, drinking deep. Then Marie heard his thoughts again, a jumble of them, rioting through both their minds- dark, erotic, untamed, so fierce and explicit in their demands that she felt her own response ignite.

Remy slid his hands under her t-shirt, cupping her bare breasts, and she arched against him, needing his touch, needing his heat, needing his mouth. He pulled the t-shirt over her head and sent it sailing across the room, and she was standing within his arms, wearing nothing but her jeans.

She was no longer cold, she was burning up. And she wanted more, and more, and more. He bent down and scooped her up effortlessly, holding her tight against him. You don't have to be tough all the time, his mind said. And she melted back against him. Remy was right, she didn't have to fight anymore.

He took her over to the bed, lowering her down, following her, and she took his hand, using Kitty's powers this time to phase them out of their clothing; a mischievous sparkle in her eyes and her hands lingering, touching, learning him. There were no words now; no whispered assurances, no barbs, no protests. In utter, absolute silence he touched her, his long fingers sliding between her legs, coaxing them apart, and he leaned forward and put his mouth on her breast.

The sensation was fierce, burning, exquisite, and she heard her breathless cry of longing as she arched back against the bed. Remy moved his mouth to her other breast, suckling deeply, before moving his mouth away to trail hot, biting kisses down her torso and Marie put her hands on his shoulders, unsure. Then he simply took her hands in one of his, holding her gaze, the heat of them soothing her doubts, and returned his mouth to hers; one finger, then two and three, continuing the path he'd started with his mouth and driving her crazy. And so she let herself slip, slide into a dark and wonderful place, full of brazen images and unspoken desires, lost and whirling in a kind of mad splendor that sharpened into a blinding clarity as she climaxed against his hand.

She was vaguely aware of him moving up and over her, kneeling between her trembling legs. Marie waited, watching as he protected her, wanting to reach out and touch him, to do it for him, but still too shaky and shy to move. And then he was pressing against her, sliding deep, filling her with one sure thrust; and he was so burning hot that she was burning with him, pushing her body against his, her long legs right around his hips, wanting more, wanting all of him. His hands cupped her hips, pulling her more closely against him. Remy's mouth crushed hers and she heard him, the words, sifting through his mind, love and lust and longing, striving for an end that was only a beginning. She clutched at him, shivering, building, shattering once more as she felt him explode in her arms, a white-hot flame of passion that seemed to last an eternity.

When Marie opened her eyes, she found Remy collapsed on her, his heart still pounding furiously against her. He was heavy, and she didn't mind even for a moment. She felt better than she had in her entire life. Her body was hot, nerveless, completely sated; her mind at ease. And her heart- her heart was full of an indescribable feeling that had a simple definition. And that was love. But was it his or hers? Or both? But either way it scared her, a strange unease in her heart. An unrecognized threat? But if it was only for a night… He lifted himself up with his hands on either side of her, looked at her, and there was no way she could stop the warmth that filled her inside any more than she could stop the tear sliding down her cheek.

He smiled then- a tender smile that temporarily banished the shadows around them, gently wiping away that tear, and just the look on his face made her want to confess everything. Then put his mouth against hers, this time offering a sweet, lingering kiss and her hands slid around him as she kissed him back, gladly losing herself in the sheer haven of his mouth instead. When he finally pulled away, she let him go reluctantly. "I should go," he said after a while, still staring hungrily at her lips. "You should," she agreed, her face mirroring his hunger as well as a desperate yearning. "Just one last kiss……" he whispered. And a minute later they started all over again and an hour later they lay in each others arms once more, too exhausted for words, before falling asleep just like that.

* * *

That's it for now folks, lol. I hope you liked this chapter, I'll try to update as soon as possible.

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	5. Part Five

**Secrets**

****

**A/N: **Here's the fifth part of this story, where Rogue and Remy are found out, revelations are made, and Rogue has a heart to heart with Kurt, finally getting the courage to face the team. Forgive me if I messed up on his accent- while I'm great with Cajun/French ones, used to them, I have no experience with German ones, lol. And for all who asked, nope, Remy still hasn't found out yet. ((ducks from potential flying objects)) Before you write me annoyed responses, I don't mean to keep y'all on edge there the scene just hasn't worked itself out in my head yet and I'm trying to get a few things puzzled out before I finish. Hope ya like this chapter though. And as usual, thanks to all those who reviewed my last chapter, and I look forward to hearing what you have to think whether it be compliments or suggestions for improvement.

* * *

**Part Five**

Marie wasn't sure just how long the pounding had been going on. She should've guessed her teammates wouldn't be kept away long. But for one ridiculously long moment she actually thought it was the beating of her and Remy's hearts. Then she heard the voices of her friends. And saw Kitty's head poke through the door. Her former roommates' eyes widened and she gave a little gasp. Their caring and concern would undo her. Panic screaming through her body and transferring to Remy, she called out Kitty's name as the younger girls' head disappeared through the door again. And with a hint of apprehension, she struggled to use her waning strength to try 'fixing' Kitty's memory of what she saw- still desperate to maintain her secrets.

Knowing it would be only seconds before the entire team was in there, she threw all her power into keeping them out while she telepathically floated them their clothes and phased them on. A silent cry rising in her throat, she looked into Remy's eyes, almost pleading, and uttered one word, "Go." She saw, and felt his body against hers- instinctively tense and poised to spring, either to fight or to escape. And there was a flash in his eyes, something wild, torn between leaving and staying despite the consequences. Her heart squeezed, the same desires splitting her, but the look on her face was decided. "Go," she repeated, more firmly, kindly.

"Chére…" he started before shaking his head. A rueful smile lifted his lips as if he knew not to argue with her. Not now anyways. "Sure you'll be okay?" he asked quickly after a hard, passionate kiss, dark eyes touching hers soberly, searching. She nodded, glancing back to the door. "Fine. See you soon?" Something drove her to ask. He nodded, kissing her again, then was gone as the door slammed open and the power left her, the gathered X-men getting just a glimpse of his back. She just sat there, so very weak and collapsed on the bed in a misbuttoned shirt, slacks and badly mussed hair as they glanced from the terrace doors to her. And she couldn't stand their looks of shock and confusion, the anger her tortured mind projected for her see. Then she felt the nausea rise again. "Putain de merde!" she swore in French, teleporting away from the wide-eyed bunch with a sparkle of tears in her eyes.

* * *

Rogue had just flushed the toilet, and was still sitting there on the floor with her flushed face pressed to the cool porcelain when the others came in behind her fast. "Rogue? Are you okay? What were you and that Acolyte—" Somebody, she thought it was Scott, started before Kitty cut him off with her cry. "Rogue! What is it? What's wrong?" As if suddenly noticing her apparent condition, fresh concern appeared on their faces as a few echoed her old roommates' questions. She looked away, pushing herself shakily to her feet and almost falling over but refusing any help. On wobbly legs she stumbled over to the sink, pouring some water out to rinse out her mouth and wet her face as the rope of messy hair, tied back in a loose ponytail, fell over one shoulder.

And swallowing repeatedly, she hung her head slightly as her fingers clutched the sink in a death grip, fighting the dizziness that gripped her, and looked up at her friends through the mirror with washed-out green eyes. "Easy," she said, the word coming out in a croak, trying to force a smile but only getting by with a grim copy. "I'm pregnant." She heard several gasps but beyond that, the silence was deafening. "But how?" she heard someone squeak as the buzzing in her ears increased with the pain in her head. "That's imp—"Rogue fainted before she could hear, or say, anything else.

* * *

She'd been able to hear everyone milling about long before she really woke up again, but thankfully by the time she actually chose to get up, they were all gone- which gave her time to get away and think. She wasn't ready to be around them all now- it was hard enough explaining that she could touch and how. And they were still waiting for more answers. Somehow she should've known they wouldn't settle. But then Kurt found her where she'd hidden on the roof, legs tucked up under her chin with her arms around them.

Her head was down, forehead leaned against the tops of her knees as she took breath after steadying breath, but she heard the fuzzy blue mutant teleport in; and he didn't say a word, as if waiting for her, though she knew he was just as shocked and curious and hurt. "Guess they're all pretty much in a tizzy, huh?" Rogue asked hoarsely, half-joking, as she glanced over at her brother with somber eyes and lips lifted in wry amusement.

Kurt dipped his head, no longer staring out at the night sky, and gave a choked laugh, shaking his head. "Yeah," he said in a rough voice, hands clenching and unclenching where they lay across the tops of his knees. "Zey are." He finished on a breath, slowly turning his face to hers. "Vhy did you keep zis from us? From me?" His words were blunt, his tone accusing, hurt. "Vhy didn't you tell anyvone zat you could touch? You can touch right? That's ze only answer zat makes sense of zis. And vhat does zis have to do vith zat new Acolyte of Magneto's?"

"Nothing!" she burst out. Rogue sighed shakily, "Everything. And he's not with Magneto by choice." The last part was said defensively. She saw his jaw tighten, saw his expression, and knew that wasn't the best time to bring that up- quickly switching topics. "Yes, I can touch. I don't know why I didn't tell anybody. I thought of telling you so many times, Kurt," she said softly, throat constricting as tears welled again. "But I just couldn't. At first I just didn't want to take the chance that I might lose that control, and then… it was too new, too strange. I guess it just felt safer being the Rogue- alone, untouchable."

She half-sobbed, half-laughed, tears running down her face. "I didn't know who else to be around you all. But in New Orleans…… in New Orleans it was like I could be a whole different person, could be myself, without complications. Then I met Remy, Gambit…" she hastily corrected, trailing off. "I was scared." She finished lamely, as if in summary.

"But ve're your family, Rogue. _I'm_ your family," Kurt said achingly, his voice barely above a whisper. "And vhat about Kitty?" her brother asked, switching topics to hide his tremendous pain. "If you couldn't be yourself vith anyvone else, couldn't share your secret vith zem- vhy couldn't you share zem vith us?"

She reached out to touch him, tears spilling over and he jerked back. "And now your pregnant," he added, even more hurt. "Is it _his_?" Rogue paused a long while before answering, too choked up, and then nodded. The fuzzy blue mutant let out a long hiss, shoving his hands through his hair as he just sat there.

And the silence was almost deafening. But wanting to reach out, both wanting to say something, but too hurt, too angry, too _afraid_. And all she could think was that she had screwed up again, tremendously. She had ruined everything again, and all she'd been trying to do was protect herself, her little world. Now she could never go back, things were too twisted, too different.

Then Kurt spoke again, his voice, his tone, surprising her on many levels. "Does Gambit know?" The words hit her and in a dizzying rush she thought of when she'd ran into him again in battle, when he came to her room in the med lab last night, just that morning…. All missed opportunities. Then she thought of the crushing emotions she had felt just thinking about telling him, the fear and dread, the awful anticipation, the worry, and most of all the _hope_. And that's when she broke down.

"No," she said dejectedly, breaking down into harsh and sudden sobs that wracked her body. Kurt's shock and sympathy hit her like a shot before she felt him pull her into his arms, Rogue crying violently as she buried his face in his shoulder and he held her there. It went on like that for perhaps an hour and he just held her and rocked her gently as he whispered soothing, caring words, before she eventually cried herself out, weak and worn. She'd been feeling like that way too often lately and she knew it had to be those damn over-active hormones. "Oh Kurt, what am I gonna do? What am I gonna say?" she asked in a hoarse whisper, looking at him with washed-out, red-rimmed eyes. "I messed this up so badly……"

He let out a long breath. "I don't know Rogue, I seriously don't know." They heard the others voices from inside the house, asking about Rogue and why she hadn't returned yet, why Kurt hadn't found her yet. And then Xaviers' ever-calm voice saying that it was her choice and she'd return when she was ready, _explain_ when she was ready. "Ze only vay you're gonna find out ze answers are if you go down zere and face zem," Kurt said. Her head jerked up to stare at him. He smiled ruefully, "You can't stay up here forever."

She sighed, "I guess you're right, it's time to face them. Plus, you'll be there by my side while I do, right?" He nodded, holding out his hand as he stood up. "Of course. You're still mon schwester no matter vhat happened." Rogue took one more long, steadying breath before taking his hand carefully. "Beam me down, Scotty," she grinned up at him, eyes shining with affection. He grinned readily, grasping her hand and preparing to teleport.

"Vait," he stopped. She turned towards him. "Do you think zis vill make you even more sick, or harm ze baby, because—"She laughed, swatting him playfully.

"I'll be fine. Now teleport me down there before I lose my courage and run away to Paris or someplace." Not that she even had enough energy left to leave the roof. He just shook his head with a grin and with a loud ((bamf)) they were gone.

* * *


	6. Part Six

**Secrets**

****

**Part Six-**Clarification, confrontation, confession

Rogue closed her eyes briefly as her and Kurt teleported into the main room where the other X-men were, feeling slightly sick and dizzy from the teleportation despite what she told her brother before. So she just put her hand on his arm for a second to steady herself, then she opened her eyes, letting her hand drop back to her side. The others were watching her, waiting for something, waiting for her with that terrible gaze, emotions mixed. And she froze, unable to think or say anything, wanting to force her gaze away or run, but Kurt's presence was stopping her.

So she was praying for someone, anyone, to say something even if there was another sudden barrage of questions-because a barrage she knew could handle then. "So you can really touch now?" Kitty piped in, sounding both hurt and hopeful- happy for her through the pain of deceit. "Because, I mean, since you're…." Rogue interrupted her with a short laugh, blinking back the sudden prick of tears. She was just so grateful to her that moment. "Yes Kitty, I can really touch now." There was a minute silence before everyone seemed to open up with questions, though the mood hadn't shifted. She could still feel it keenly. The anger, the wariness, the pain and distrust.

"How long?" Logan asked next, his voice, though low and quiet, was heard above the crowd louder than the greatest shout. Rogue felt the tears again, the pain she caused the people she cared about so much almost crushing. And the questions weren't getting any easier. She bowed her head. "About two and a half years," she confided on a whisper. The shock was evident even before she heard the gasps. "Almost three years now…." "So long and nothing…." came the stunned, hushed responses. Her throat tightened; they were right, she deceived them for so long; because it had been easier for her, because it had been freedom she wasn't then ready to share.

Only Xavier was calm now, understanding, sharing her emotions and experiences. Kurt had his arm around her now but he was tense, caught between Xavier's sympathetic understanding and something of what the rest were feeling.

"Where does the Acolyte fit in?" Scott now; the team leader angry and a bit grim, having a good idea but not exactly wanting to face it. The everyone else held their breath, though the low buzz of chatter rose, Logan's fists clenching and unclenching, jaw tight as he looked ready to tear something apart with his claws. Rogue swallowed heavily, her voice soft yet firm.

"I met him in a nightclub in New Orleans a few months ago, that's where I went to escape every summer, to let loose." She closed her eyes, shuddering with the memory. "We danced for hours and hours it seemed, and then we went back to my room at the hotel. The next morning I got the call and rode back here, and just saw him again the day we faced his team in battle." The silence was almost deafening; then Logan let out a growl as he claws released with aloud SNICKT and he trashed a side table, fruit rolling everywhere. "He used you—" He started angry. And she knew something like 'I'll tear him apart' was going to follow.

"No!" Rogue said abruptly, quiet yet firm again, dark eyes flashing. She could feel the eyes on her again, searching, and she swallowed past the knot in her throat. "He didn't. _I_ used _him_. Or at least that's how it started." The meaning behind that subconscious admission blew her away. And she could feel Logan freeze, emotions bubbling underneath the surface, Jean's breath coming out in a hiss.

"Magneto—" Scott burst, the beginning of a lecture/spiel about how it was part of some plot in the air, the leader looking for reasonable explanations.

"Had nothing to do with anything, Scott," Rogue replied, a warning in her voice. "He didn't even meet Magneto until about two months ago, I know that for certain." That shut him up. They all knew how she got that certainty. "And now you're pregnant," Jean murmured softly. The redhead's eyes met hers almost quizzically. Rogue just nodded, looking her straight in the eye. _He doesn't know, does he? _she asked intuitively, communicating on a psychic level (whether Jean had done so purposely or whether she had just been thinking aloud and Rogue picked up on it). The stripe-haired youngwoman bowed her head briefly before looking back up at the telepath._ No._

Tears filled her eyes again and she cursed those damn hormones. "Ohmigod Rogue!" Kitty squealed, running to give her an affectionate hug, tears in the younger girls eyes as well. Then the Kitty pulled back a bit as if remembering something the realizing it was okay now, hugged her just as intensely. "And you almost died last week, your baby almost died!" Kitty pulled back again with a small frown. "Shouldn't you be in bed?" Rogue gave a choked laugh.

"Kitty, I'm fine, really. I've been there long enough. And my name is Marie," she added softly, an offering, raising her eyes to look at the entire group as if seeking acceptance for all this. "Marie," her former roommate repeated softly, pleased, a warm smile on her lips, pulling her into a hug again. But after the long tender moment had passed and she stepped back, Rogue wiped her eyes with another little smile, only to glance up and see the others, Jean, Amara, Bobby, Jamie, Storm, Logan… All just standing there, watching her, either unforgiving or undecided or a bit of both, coldly turned from her. But it was Logan's reaction that hurt the most.

"Say something," she said, a note of pleading in her voice as she looked at him. He just dropped his head, shaking it slightly, and walked away. And then there was Scott, tense, fists clenched, jaw tight and eyes flashing. "Do you plan on seeing him again, this Acolyte?" She could sense the groups' discomfort, but it seemed to be a question on all of there minds. It was a touchy topic, Magneto and his group. Marie's brow furrowed, "I really don't know." Scott nodded stiffly, anger radiating off him, and turned his back to them. "Of course not," he hissed.

"What's his problem?" Kitty muttered to the other girl, not liking his attitude. "He can't be that bad. And he wasn't even the enemy when Marie met him!" She said a bit louder, coming to her friend and teammates' defense. "You weren't even there!" Scott snapped, storming off. "I'm not gonna apologize for having some fun and freedom, especially not to you!" Marie screamed after him. "You expect me to be a straight-assed perfect loser like you!" Why did she ever like him? Scott turned around at the top of the stairs with eyes blazing visibly behind his shades, letting the insults roll off him- he was above them it seemed.

"No, I wouldn't expect you to be perfect," he sneered, his tone as much implying she was dirt or a slut or something, "but I would've expected you to know better." He gave a cold laugh, "I guess I was wrong. He's the _enemy_, Rogue. And if you associate with him that makes you just as bad. A traitor." And his words cut deeper than any insult he could've hurled. Then he took the rest of the stairs quickly and was gone, before she could think of anything in her muddled pain and anger to shout back. Though she was too stunned anyway.

Silently, the others turned to follow their leader and left, taking his example and telling Marie that by making the choices she had that she was going against them all and so alienated from them. Even Storm, who still stood by Xavier's side, one hand on the back of his wheelchair, turned her head. "They're taking it so seriously, the battle and this rivalry," Kitty said, shaking her head. Marie bowed her head, tears in her eyes. The fight had gone out of her. "I don't blame him, I don't blame any of you, I'm sorry," she said with a sniff. And then she teleported out, collapsing weakly on her bed, drained of energy, and she wept until she fell asleep. Damn hormones.

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Hope you enjoyed this chapter. Opinions/suggestions are welcome, A tout a l'heure, CajunBelle 


	7. Part Seven

**Secrets**

**Part Seven**

'Do you ever feel like breaking down?  
Do you ever feel out of place?  
Like somehow you just don't belong  
And no one understands you

Do you ever wanna run away?  
Do you lock yourself in your room?  
With the radio on turned up so loud  
That no one hears you screaming'

Marie lay back on her bed, eyes shut, one hand behind her head and one laying across her stomach as she listened to Simple Plan's 'Welcome to My Life', completely spent.

'No you don't know what it's like  
When nothing feels alright  
You don't know what it's like to be like me

To be hurt  
To feel lost  
To be left out in the dark  
To be kicked  
When you're down  
To feel like you've been pushed around  
To be on the edge of breaking down  
And no one's there to save you…'

She snorted, hand reaching over to swipe at the buttons on her CD player to turn it off and rolling over, curled up, eyes open now. Though the lyrics kept playing in her head. "**I** don't know what it's like? That song could be made for me…" She thought, lips curled in a bitter, angry sneer. Her frustration came out in bursts again as she half- sat up, punching her pillow before she came back down on the bed hard, tucking the pillow back up in an effort to get comfortable. But it was no use.

'Do you wanna be somebody else?  
Are you sick of feeling so left out?  
Are you desperate to find something more  
Before your life is over

Are you stuck inside a world you hate?  
Are you sick of everyone around?  
With their big fake smiles and stupid lies  
While deep inside you're bleeding…'

Making a low sound in her throat as tears burned her eyelids, Marie punched her pillow again. The scene from last night over and over like a bad movie. Everyone turning their backs on her, Scott's cruel words, everyone turning their backs on her…. Even Logan. Then something hit her like a flash of lightning â€" reckless, impulsive, but sure.

'No you don't know what it's like  
When nothing feels alright  
You don't know what it's like to be like me….

To be hurt  
To feel lost  
To be left out in the dark…'

Determination set on her face and she leapt up, eyes almost feverishly bright as an angry energy filled her. "Fine," she fumed, They're gonna be like that, they don't want me here, then I won't **stay** here!" 'To think I've been up here most of the day, sick over this, over **them**,' she thought in self-disgust. 'As if what happened to me before wasn't enough. The universe couldn't allow me to be able to touch, to have those small summers away, to have that one night, and let me be. It had to have my home destroyed, everyone I cared for taken, be hurt in the process of saving them, find out I'm pregnant and lose control, almost dying the same night!' she ranted.

'To be kicked  
When you're down  
To feel like you've been pushed around  
To be on the edge of breaking down  
And no one's there to save you  
No you don't know what it's like….'

The stripe-haired young woman yanked her travel bag out of her closet, slamming it on the bed, and furiously started ripping stuff off her hanger, not caring whether or not she broke them, and shoved them in the bag. All the while muttering, a scowl on her face and her mind so singly focused on her task she didn't notice that stuff was just flying to her now, energy crackling around her as her stolen powers resurfaced.

'No one ever lied straight to your face  
And no one ever stabbed you in the back  
You might think I'm happy  
But I'm not gonna be ok

Everybody always gave you what you wanted  
You never had to work it was always there  
You don't know what it's like  
What it's like…'

Then she felt a kick. As if the small life inside her was trying to get her attention/make itself known before she did something dangerous and got it hurt- or as if it was trying to offer her comfort with its presence. Marie jumped about a foot in the air, eyes almost comically wide. Her hand flew to her stomach, task forgotten. "Holy shit," she breathed. "Holy shit!" This curse came louder- a mix of shock, panic, wonder, and something else. There really **was** something inside her. "Well, duh," a part of her said sarcastically. "What did you think? You're pregnant. You've known for months." But in her head she quickly tallied the months, mind going back to those dumb lessons in the required health course.

Well, she hadn't really been paying attention (rather, she'd been listening to music on her portable CD player in the back row and drawing aimlessly), but someone she'd previously absorbed had. 'Four months, seems about right,' she thought, chewing the inside of her cheek. Yet she hadn't expected this- it hadn't quite seemed **real**, despite the weird cravings and puke sessions ('which were mistakenly called "morning" sickness,' she scowled). Not until now. Still, her hand remained on her stomach as she stared down at it, mind shockingly clear, even now almost disbelieving as if demanding, **daring** it to kick again. But of course it didn't. Staying, as it seemed now, oddly silent. Either satisfied it accomplished its' goal or already defying her- as her own body had done so often before.

Shaking her head, Marie dropped onto the bed next to the travel bag woodenly, just sitting there, thinking. How was she going to do this with a baby? Because she had something, someone, else to worry about now, another little life to take care of. And in a few more month…. She sighed. How long could she/they last on two hundred dollars plus whatever was in her savings? She still had so much to prepare for, so much she needed. And where was she going to go? She didn't think she could 9or wanted to) go to Remy. Besides the lust, and the strange connection they seemed to share (and did she mention the lust?), she wasn't even sure just where they stood, or hoe she really felt. 'Liar!' that one part of her called accusingly.

'You know perfectly well how you feel about him! You love him. Didn't you just admit as much to everyone else? And he loves you! Does he really need to say it out loud?' It brought up Remy's unspoken words in the medlab and bits of his memories along with her own before she could protest its point. "Love," Marie scoffed, looking at the toes of her shoes, not really even able to argue with that voice- with herself. "I don't even know what it is. Not really. Much less what it means. I thought I did once…." For a second she looked wistful, tearful, before the anger returned , fierce as ever. "But that's over now."

To be hurt  
To feel lost  
To be left out in the dark  
To be kicked  
When you're down  
To feel like you've been pushed around  
To be on the edge of breaking down  
And one's there to save you  
No you don't know what it's like…"

Sneer back in place, she jumped to her feet again and returned to packing with a vengeance. But a sudden kick made her stop once more. But she wasn't so much shocked this time as she was curious, annoyed really. "What—!" she started with a scowl. She froze. The baby. She still hadn't told Remy. Oh God. What was she going to say! How was he going to react…! She fretted for a moment. Something, some feeling or some little voice, told her he'd be happy- but the same voice also said he'd be furious. If only because she hadn't told him yet, because she left him before, and tried to a second time, all the while knowing. Biting her lip again without even realizing what she was doing, she shook it all off with a harsh reprimandment, frowning at herself.

Why did she care so much? It wasn't supposed to be like this, wasn't supposed to be anything... _But it was,_ a quiet voice interrupted from nowhere. And instantly she felt shamed for thinking she'd run off, especially with his child and no explanation, without him even knowing. She felt ashamed for feeling as she had. But the hardened part came in again. 'He doesn't have to know. Why should he?' The gentler voice entered in again, aghast, _Of course he should, he deserves to, think of his feelings. This is way more than a one night stand and far from casual._ Which of course the other side argued with. Marie groaned. Look at her. No she was schizophrenic. She was going to tear **herself** apart, she didn't need all those other voices/personalities. She shook her head to clear it and sighed. The voices stopped.

"Looks like its just me and you baby," she said wryly, quietly, touching a hand to her slightly rounded stomach. She allowed herself a tiny moment of wonder, of tenderness. "Baby." And it was inside her, it was hers. Then there was a soft, answering swish inside her accompanied by a sudden warmth as Remy's image floated to the front of her mind, as if to ask 'what about daddy?' And she tried to push that away too. But something else came to her. With a combinations of Logan's enhanced senses, Jean's telepathy, and her own sharp instincts, she heard/ knew Kitty was coming down the hall towards her room. With Scott, she noted with a low growl. 'Traitor,' a voice inside her hissed.

But before she could decipher that, she suddenly sensed Remy nearing the mansion, breaking in through the main gate, making his way across the grounds, with a new sensitivity. Even without her stolen gifts, she recognized the prickling of the hairs at the back of her neck and her heart seemed to skip a beat, blood hot. Not to mention that certain tightening within her... And it seemed the tiny life inside her sensed its father too, since there was a new fluttering there, like butterfly wings, and soft ripples, movements. 'Remy,' came the inner sigh. Her heart swelled, as though full to bursting. Finding it a bit hard to breathe all of a sudden, she glanced back to her door, then to her balcony again. Something like desperation rose up. Along with a fierce anger.

She could hear Scott's voice speaking to Kitty almost now, and she tuned it out with a hard glance at the solid oak. Her fists clenched, already wanting to get to him. But now was not the time to fight, some voice of reason piped in. Not with Remy a breath away from her and Scott and Kitty just outside. Mind hastily making a decision for her, she grabbed her coat off the desk chair, checking for her wallet, and snatched her travel bag off the bed in one split second. Then she teleported away, a violent wretch inside her as if in protest; an instant before Remy swung in, looking confused and frustrated- and a moment before Scott and Kitty entered, shocked.

To be hurt  
To feel lost  
To be left out in the dark  
To be kicked  
When you're down  
To feel like you've been pushed around  
To be on the edge of breaking down  
And one's there to save you  
No you don't know what it's like….

Welcome to my life

Welcome to my life

Welcome to my life.'

* * *

Even after Jean had followed him to his room the night before, appalled at his behavior though she agreed with him on most levels, and even after their talk, after she blew him away with her insight/realizations, Scott had found it hard to let go of his anger. He'd found it even harder to let go of his feelings of betrayal and come to terms with what Jean had said/had revealed about him that he hadn't even wanted to admit to himself. Though it still took him until just now to accept that he needed to apologize to Rogue. "Marie." He mentally corrected himself, denying the warmth that stole across him at that. He ran a hand through his hair, ignoring the looks and whispers as he entered the girls wing, passed Jeans' room. But his face tightened in resolve.

"Scott, where are you going!" he heard from behind him, along with footsteps hurrying to catch up. The field leader of the X-men winced at the tone, turning his head slightly to look even though he knew who it was. "Marie's room," he said, though the answer was obvious, stopping. His gaze on her was direct, firm. He was going to do what he had to do with or without her allowance. The brunette's brow eyes narrowed, arms crossed, quick to her friends' defense and placing herself slightly in front of him. As if she was going to stop him. As if she could. He would've found the thought humorous if not for the seriousness of the situation and the fact that this slip of a girl could probably phase his still beating heart out of his chest.

"Scott, don't you think you've done enough?" she asked snidely, warningly, her anger apparent and her normally friendly eyes accusing. That hit him. He sighed, dropping his gaze for a moment before meeting her stare again, face sober. "I was going to apologize." Kitty's frown lessened, but her look was still fierce, expression clearly stating that she didn't think that was good enough. "A little late, don't you think? You know how bad she hurt because of that? A simple apology isn't going to cut it." "Kitty…." Scott started, face pained. He closed his eyes behind his shades, hands clenching and unclenching helplessly, his voice holding a desperate note.

"I was wrong. **So** wrong. I know that know. I want to try and fix things. I **have** to try to fix things. And—" She held up a hand with a sigh, as if knowing what that had cost him, as if she had seen/heard what she needed to. "Fine," at his face brightened slightly she cut him off again, "You're not getting off, lightly or otherwise, not with me and likely not with Marie. But it's up to her whether or not she wants to hear her, that choice will be hers alone. But I'm coming with you- if only to make sure you don't make it worse." He opened his mouth again to protest that last remark but gave up. She was right. "Okay," he said, raising his hands, his shoulders in a shrug, a sign of defeat, "Let's go."

But all they found when they got there were lingering hints of sulfur smoke and the Acolyte Marie called Remy in soft tones standing there. After recovering from the shock, Scott was surprised even further at the suddenness and the intensity of his anger, of his hatred. "What're you doing here!" he snapped, fury emanating from him, his eyes blazing behind his shades and his tone harsh. He didn't even sound like himself anymore. But damnit, **this** was the man Marie had chosen, if only for a night ('a night that extended into something more,' a wicked voice reminded him). **This** was the man she'd let go of her gift, her secret, for- who she'd allowed to touch her. **This** when she could've had anyone. When she could've had **him**….

* * *

Remy picked through the mansions defenses in record time and, after learning Marie was back in her old room, headed right for her. He was eager to finish what they had started yesterday, but first to comfort and rage with her about the events of last night- that he'd had to hear from passing students on his way up to her balcony. That really burned him up. (After all- who could do that to his chére?) Of course, he hadn't been able to tell Marie where to reach him if she needed, but still… He'd even waited in the woods for her, taking the chance she might walk by. He was only sorry it had taken him so long to get back here.

Though all he found when he got there was an empty room and what seemed like a trace of foul/acidic smoke in the air. "Chére?" Remy called, stepping away from the balcony doors, head turning to peer into the bathroom, then the closets just in case. He told her he'd return later, when it was safe- surely she couldn't have gone too far? At least he hoped not. He refused to remember her leaving after one of the most amazing nights of his life (and hers, he'd wager), not to mention her rejection when they met up again in battle. Then the sound of talking (more mention of the night before and apologetic tones) reached his ears just before the door swung open. But it wasn't Marie at the Valley girls' side.

He heard a gasp from the girl and then felt an overwhelming wave of anger, along with the girls shock, before it all came out. "What're you doing here!" the team leader practically snarled at him. The Cajun's lip curled, his red-on-black eyes flashing to give him an almost demonic look. "Remy might ask you de same question." He didn't own the other male any answers. Especially ones to stupid questions. He saw something spark in Cyclops' face, emotions flaring, before he eventually said crossly, concisely, "I'm her teammate, and her friend, that's why. **I** have a right to be here."

"Not much of one, from what I hear," Remy shot out with a slight growl, still wanting to tear the X-man apart for what he did to Marie, for being here in her room (albeit with the feisty looking friend), and wondering why he wasn't. He felt a new mix of pain, shame, and something else from Cyclops' before anger welled again. "Watch it Acolyte." Remy, feeling murderous, now went passed anger to reply smoothing, tauntingly (though every bit as dangerous as before), "What bothers you more- dat Remy be an Acolyte? Or dat you could've had Marie but she passed you up?" From the other male's expression, he knew his wild shot that that something else had been jealously was correct.

Then Kitty, who until now had been silent, spoke up, holding an arm out to prevent the two from taking it any further. "Guys!" she exclaimed. "I suggest you get things in order! While you two are tearing at each other, Marie is gone here—" she waved at all the empty closet hangers and pulled out empty drawers "—and getting further away- likely hurt, confused, and believing nobody cares!" she finished, sending a glare Scott's way. Before he could interrupt saying that he wasn't the only one or that he'd come to rectify that, like Remy was sure he was going to, Kitty continued. "And if anything happens to hurt her or the ba—" she suddenly cut herself off, rage going to embarrassment, eyes widening in realization of what she'd almost said and in front of who.

Now pale, her glance slid to Remy, who didn't know yet, nervous. "The ba—?" Remy asked after a moment of strained silence, seeing the looks Kitty was giving him then the looks she gave Scott. One eyebrow arched, he lifted one hand as if to punctuate his question. Kitty bit his lip and he felt confusion and frustration creep up on him. "Baby," Cyclops spit out, shoving a hand through his hair angrily, teeth clenched. His look was sharp, pained, and almost loathful at the mention. "Her baby… and yours." He finished with obvious disgust, lip curled. Shock hit hard. He didn't care who saw…staring off, unblinking and without a word or movement, as if frozen. But his mind raced. 'His baby! Rogue was pregnant!' Them, 'He was going to be a father! **Him**!'

And Marie hadn't said a word about it. Unknowingly he stumbled back. But she told **them**. 'And look what happened,' a voice in the back of his mind said. Then utter confusion and shock melted into a brief but entirely wonderful joy, anticipation, love- and thoughts of Marie, big with his child, his claim staked in the most primitive way, him and her with child in arms. All before a blinding anger bled into the others and became all-consuming. She hadn't told him. She probably had never even intended to. A cold, sick feeling invaded his system. All those chances she'd had…. And no word! Nothing! And she had tried to push him away, keeping her secrets, keeping **their** child... The thought of losing that, losing **her** and never seeing her again- while she lived somewhere else with **his** child and him unknowing.

The cold, sick, empty, feeling intensified and, body shuddering with the horror of it, he let it join with the anger and he exploded- whirling around and knocking a vase off the nearby dresser. He felt more than saw Kitty jump with a gasp at his violent reaction, the emotions radiating almost visibly from him. But, hands clenched into fists that glowed with kinetic energy, blood dripping from a cut on his hand from the impact of the smashing vase, he looked over, gaze falling on Scott. "And **you**," he hissed, seething, burning up with anger. He glared into the leaders' hateful, surprised eyes as the small gleam of victory over Remy was wiped away. Now, above even all his anger and pain over Marie and all her secrets/ her betrayal, what ruled was his love, his protective instinct, and everything he felt towards the X-men for what they did to Marie.

"**You** do **dis** to her! You hurt her, betray her, turn yo' straight-assed back on her and chase her away! Wit' **my** child!' he was shouting now, having crossed the room in what seemed seconds and holding Cyclops up in the air by the tight grip he had on his sweater. So intense were his feelings, his anger, that he dropped the third tense, accent thickening and words peppered with French expletives, and him sounding all the more dangerous as he charged Scotts' clothes, heating his very skin. He heard Scott choke slightly at that, could feel the temperature rising sharply, and he smiled cruelly, a grim promise in his demon eyes even as Scott reached for his visor to make a deadly but likely necessary shot…

Then he felt, just barely, Kitty pushing hard at him, at them both, shouting, "Stop it! Stop it! Killing each other won't solve anything!" Not giving any hint that he'd heard, not relaxing his grip, Remy just continued to glare at Scott, gaze hard and merciless, letting him see the very edge of his darkness. Scott's fingers flexed on his visor but Remy could almost taste his fear and uncertainty. Then, shooting a glance to the small Valley girl, with a touch of amusement and admiration for her courage and ferocity (however foolish), he let the kinetic energy slid, looking back to Scott with a sound of disgust and muttered French curses before dropping him. The leader landed on his feet, but just barely, stumbling back.

"I'm going to find chére," Remy said with a hateful look at Scott, disregarding Kitty. And, crossing the room again in three long strides, he vaulted over the balcony railing and disappeared. "Oh boy," Kitty whispered, watching the Cajun go. She looked to Scott, "We'd better inform the Professor… and try to find Marie before he does. Not that I agree with you and most of the others on this Acolyte issue." She cast her gaze over Scott. "Nice look, by the way. Now let's go." She strode across the room, reaching the door and swinging it open to enter into the hallway. Scott, brow furrowed over her last comment, glanced down to see that half his shirt and pants were gone, edges charred and cursed loudly. Scowling and vowing that the Cajun would pay, he quickly hurried after his teammate.

* * *


	8. Part Eight

**Secrets**

**A/N:** Hey everybody, I'm back with another chapter. Just don't hate me if this doesn't turn out the way you thought/wanted and it all gets a little darker and more twisted before things get better, K? I promise it'll all turn out

* * *

**Part Eight**

A not so slight shiver ran through Remy's body and the Cajun wrapped his old brown trenchcoat tighter around his lean frame. "Trust chére to choose someplace so cold to hide," he murmured dryly, "She couldn't choose Mississippi or N'Orleans." Of course it would've been far too obvious if she had. Not to mention that he knew the swamps as well as she did, if not better, and she knew it. Though it hadn't stopped him from looking. He flexed fingers near frostbitten from hours exposed on the handles of his motorcycle in fingerless gloves and wished he'd packed for colder weather. Or packed more than an extra shirt (too thin for this cold) and leather pants at least.

But he'd been so eager/excited about this latest tip that he'd forgotten to pick up anything more. Again. So he'd been jumping place to place in the same old clothes. Not that it mattered to him now, he thought wryly with a shake of his head as he saw a group of women looking him over appreciatively. He'd lost his vanity a long time ago. The morning Marie used her powers on him and he woke to see her leaving him in a hurry. And without a word. He flexed his cold fingers again within the folds of his trenchcoat as he crossed the parking lot to the small bar and pool hall. No, as attractive as the women were, he only really wanted one pair of eyes looking over him at that. Marie's. She was all he wanted, period. Her and their child.

Spotting his contact almost immediately as he entered the bar, he raised his hand in an old signal as the man turned and caught his gaze, letting him know who he was. He just hoped this one didn't lead him down another dead end road too. Though Remy had a long list of connections himself and various ways of getting information tat he planned to exhaust in his search, there had been a lot of disappointments. His only comfort was knowing that the X-men weren't doing so well either- even with Baldy on their side. He'd heard as much the last time he snuck by. The Cajun's lips up in a bittersweet smile. That was his chére. Smart and resourceful, powerful. If she didn't want to be found, she wasn't.

Only now he planned to find her. He had just as many tricks as she did, her match on every level. But as he crossed the dance floor, doubts assailed him, chipping away at his already waning confidence (confidence previously rock solid and abundant before Marie shook him up). What if **he** was who/what she was running from? What if she didn't want him/ didn't want him to find her? Could his own strong emotions have been clouding his powers when he'd felt sure he was feeling love and tenderness from her? Yet still the doubts warred with his desire to believe it, his hopes that it was true. It was just as likely that it wasn't, but he had such dreams of them re-uniting…

'So did you think of me while we were apart?' Marie would ask after the emotional storm died down, after they talked, and he soothed her. And he would say softly as he traced her lips with his thumb, looking into her eyes, 'Only twice. When my eyes were open, and when they were closed.' And then he'd kiss her with everything in him and she'd melt into his arms. Often the dreams would involve frequent bouts of lovemaking, but other times reality would intrude and he'd remember she was seven months pregnant with his child. As if he could forget. The pain that hit his gut rivaled the fierce longing and desire that had filled him when he thought about having Marie in his arms again. And he ducked his head, a wry, sad smile on his lips. He'd thought of her, of them, so many times since she ran again and he took up his hunt.

It seemed every second of the day when he wasn't keeping his mind occupied with something else was spent thinking of her. And the past three months had been an eternity. That alone proved that what he felt for her far surpassed mere desire, that for the first time he not only needed a woman, he loved her. And the second he found her, he'd prove it to her. Remy grinned suddenly, wickedly, as he thought of all the ways he could prove it but shook his head, forcing his lips back into a straight line, a sober but self- depreciating smile. So he had a one-track mind as of late (as he'd usually had before). He was trying. 'Not that it's wrong, by any means, to find the woman you love attractive, irresistible,' he defended himself mentally as he gave the bartender his order, sitting next to his contact.

'It's not wrong to imagine doing things to Marie's naked body. Or her **clothed** body,' he added thoughtfully. 'Only half the things I imagined would be impossible now, with the bebe so grown,' he told himself with a sad, wistful smile, sighing to himself. Seven months that he'd missed out on. 'Funny how the thought of her round with my child didn't take anything from his desire, but added to it,' he laughed dryly inside his mind to cover the burn of tears at the backs of his eyes. He pushed his shades higher up on his face to hide his eyes from anyone that was looking. And his empty laughter faded out as he sipped his drink, leaving him even more determined to find Marie. Seven months. "So, mon ami," he said briskly, straight to the point. "What do you know?"

* * *

There was a crack then a pop from the fireplace as the fire lay in the throes of death. The flames were gone, and though the embers still glowed hotly, they couldn't have much longer to go. A giant shiver ripped through her and she rose slowly, carefully from beneath the quilt, one hand pushing up on the chair and the other on her stomach. It was no longer hard to believe she sheltered a life in her womb- in fact her stomach had almost tripled in size. But nobody was around to see her like this, nobody was around to impress or put on masks for, so what did it matter? Marie rolled her eyes as she dug through her woodbin, making a face at the sorry state of it. "This is what you get when you forget to collect more wood then doze off and neglect the fire," she said with an ironic twist of her lips, watching her breath puff out in the frigid air.

She shook her head at her own thoughtlessness, making a sound of disgust in the back of her throat as she tossed the small bundle of sticks into the fireplace. The flames licked at the wood hungrily as she went back to her rocking chair and curled back up under the hand- stitched quilt she'd gotten from someone in the nearby village. "What a sorry pick of a mother you got bebe," she said with a wry half-smile, stroking her stomach absent-mindedly. "I can barely take care of myself here like this, much less you." Her yawn turned into a sigh as she surveyed the less than stellar cabin. She felt a rousing stir inside her, as if to protest that statement, and almost instantly a flood of warmth, serenity, washed over her. A re-assurance.

The corners of her lips tipped up again. Her baby. The pacifier. She'd found it odd at first, these sudden rushes of intense emotion she knew weren't hers, but after she discovered the source it wasn't hers, it wasn't so much surprise that her child had powers too- it was the strength of them, how soon they had manifested. Or was it because they were linked and the baby was somehow using that? She gave a short laugh. Either way it was a wonder. But was it a coincidence that the childs' powers seemed empathic in nature- just like its' father? Remy. Marie's eyes squeezed shut, the laugh turning into a groan.

She'd run to Canada, having moved place to place, keeping one step ahead of whoever followed her, and she still couldn't rid herself of the handsome Cajun- or thoughts of him rather. It was useless though. She couldn't let herself love him, certainly couldn't go back to him, not like this. She had trapped herself. And still the thoughts and dreams and tears wouldn't stop. What had happened to her touch persona and got-to-hell attitude? If only… The door to the cabin slammed open, startling her, freezing wind and snow blowing in. The stripe-haired young woman jumped, whipping around to see a tall, muscular figure standing in the doorway. Wide-eyed, she clutched her quilt to her chest, heart pounding as she recognized who it was.

A shaft of pain and something bittersweet touched her, tainted the brief joy she'd felt seeing him. She'd figured he'd find her eventually, and here of all places- she knew him too well to think otherwise. But again- so soon? She couldn't have been more unprepared. She watched him stand there a moment, looking around, before his dark eyes found hers. Then, not shifting his gaze, he reached for the door and grasped the edge with strong fingers, pulling it close and shutting it firmly against the cold. "Nice place," he commented sardonically as he brushed the snow from him, spying the cracks in the walls and under the door where the wind whistled through, brow arched.

Marie shrugged wordlessly, her expression saying she didn't give a damn as long as it was shelter, and she just stared at the man she'd once (and still did, if she was truthful) thought the world of as he crossed the room to sit on the couch adjacent to her. He glanced towards the small fire, the half-eaten sandwich on the end table, and then to her stomach full and ripe with child. His eyes were somber when they met hers again. "We really need to talk kid," he said in a low rumble. 'That's the understatement of the year,' was all she could think, the furrowed brow and contemplative look gone to a smooth, expressionless mask. "I'm listening," she replied quietly, eyes not giving an inch.

* * *

Marie shook her head vehemently, turning her face away so Logan couldn't see the warring emotions there, pulling her hands tight into her body. She blinked back any tears that dared well in her eyes as the cold anger battled with her desire to believe him, to cry and fall into his arms. He had offered without hesitation to let her absorb him to see the truth of what he said, of his emotions. But she feared she already saw, already knew. And the part of her that wanted to give in and believe her, wanted to let go of her pain and anger over his perceived betrayal, was winning. Though she wasn't sure she wanted it to. This seemed much safer.

She'd believed once, bared herself to all that once, and she'd been hurt tremendously. By people who had professed to care. Her life was a series of betrayals and she was sick of it. Yet, unbidden, memories of that night came to her- Logan's memories, intersped with her own. She felt **his** pain, **his** sorrow, **his** sense of betrayal- and his need to get away, to run, to clear his head. Then shot in memories of first learning to control her power- her boundless joy that was quickly drowned with doubts and worries that it wouldn't last; her perfecting the ability only to later fear what would happen next and her world changing.

And then came in Logan's memories of her keeping him at a distance, her jerking away from his slightest touch (while, he'd realized later, she could touch), his efforts to help her and her lies/secretiveness. "Logan," she whispered brokenly, closing her eyes, head ducked, losing the fight. Tears swam in her eyes. As close as they were, as much as they had meant to each other, she still had chosen not to confide in him, letting it come out in an open, ugly display. Even with her fears and her desire to keep everything to herself, to keep her secrets/keep things the same if only for a bit, regret and self-loathing filled her.

It seemed she had a talent for destroying her life and hurting people as much as anyone else in her past. "Hey," he said gruffly, his touch gentle as he wiped a rogue tear away from her cheek with his thumb. "It'll be alright- for both of us." He gave her that slow, special smile he'd always reserved just for her, "Now let me get some more wood for the fire, then we can finish this talk, okay?" Marie nodded, gathering herself and he got up, grabbing his coat on the way out. Sighing, she looked to the pitiful fire and decided to make some coffee. Pregnant or not, she could really use a picker-upper.

* * *

"Logan…." Marie started an hour later, his name muffled from where her head was buried in the crook of his neck. She pulled back from the embrace with a sigh, eyes sober. She'd managed to regain some composure/restraint, and she was glad she had believed, glad things were looking up, but some things she just wouldn't do, not even for him. "I **can't** go back." She felt a slight rumble as if in protest before he caught himself, saw the words forming in his mind and looked away for a second. More resolved, gaze firm, she continued, "I know opinions haven't really changed much there, despite what you said. I don't want them 'willing to make an exceptions' for me, I want things **different**."

This was said fiercely. They'd still look at her oddly, still look at her as if she were a stranger or a traitor, still be wary around her or watch her like a hawk whenever she went out or took a call. They wouldn't be any more tolerant of Remy or the other Acolytes either, no matter that they were basically good guys outside their tie to Magneto. And forget trying to explain her continued friendship with the Brotherhood. No, things would be almost exactly as they had before all the secrets came out, except more tense/strained. More like when she first joined, though now she'd bet they wouldn't be as freely friendly with her, as without restraint. "I just… can't," she repeated a bit lamely, more to herself.

There was a long silence after that. He knew her mind well, and she knew his, they were too much alike not to, but she knew he also didn't want to let this drop. (Out of worry? she wondered.) So she was surprised when Logan just nodded slowly, with that rueful half-smile, sitting at the edge of the couch now with forearms resting on his knees. "I'm not going to force ya, kid, and I'm not gonna say I'm disappointed. You can decide what's best for yourself and the little one, and come back if ya want or go someplace else. I just thought Id give ya my side, give ya another perspective." He pushed himself up, walking over to the fireplace.

"Xavier want me back?" she asked dryly. She could almost picture Logan heading out, Xavier, knowing their bond, stopping him to ask if he could try bringing her back… if he found her (or suggesting in his subtle way)- and Logan blowing up, defending her as he stomped out, ignoring Xavier's final plea. He just wanted her to see his side too, she supposed, wanted her to return to their folds. As if that would make her want to, she snorted mentally. Xavier was so cocky in his own way, yet so naive. She chased the scene from her mind contemptuously, seeing Logan's lips quirk. He caught her meaning. "Now you know nobody could force me into anything I didn't want. But he tried."

His eyes grew serious again. "He didn't condone or have anything to do with what the others said ya know." Her smile was empty. Did she? Marie just shrugged coolly, getting up to get another drink and ignoring the ugly knot in her gut as the dark emotions swum through her. "Doesn't change anything." Sure Xavier might've wanted her back on the team, she knew her own worth, but he'd want things his way, would make things clear with his disapproval and 'subtle hints' if nothing else. And his two enforcers, Jean and Scott, would see it through. There was another long silence.

"So where're ya gonna go kid?" Logan asked gruffly, surprising her again. "You can't stay here." He gestured around the old cabin, brows furrowed and dark eyes sharp. "How're ya gonna support the two of you?" Marie worried her lip a minute, thinking, though she was sure she could trust him. She'd just forgotten that in the pain of his perceived betrayal. "I was thinking I'd stay in Canada," she said, meeting his gaze again. "Somewhere more to the south where there's more people and the weather isn't as drastic. Someone from the village has a sister with a cabin to rent down there. A better one," she added at his look, almost defensively. "And I've been making money drawing and writing articles for the paper since washing dishes or waitressing doesn't work anymore.

She could discern another small nod from him where he stood by the fire. "Well, looks like you have it all figured out," he said wryly, lips tipped up though his face was unreadable and his gaze a curious mix. 'Not at all,' she replied softly in her mind, watching him walk towards the door and pause. 'I miss my friends, Kurt and Kitty. And you know I've just been scrambling, searching for solid ground, the last three months. I miss the way things used to be, even before I could touch.' Before when she'd had no hope of control but learned to be almost happy, before all the secrets came out and things got complicated.

But it was the secrets that had isolated her instead of protected her, the secrets that had divided the team. She'd wanted to keep the small happiness she'd had, that the team had had, wanted to keep the simplicity of that life, and instead she'd gotten this hell. She'd learned the hard way you can't please everyone. It's hard enough pleasing yourself. "I'm gonna miss ya Stripes," Logan said, hand on the doorknob. "We all will." Then he turned his back on her again, leaving her again… But… "Logan?" she called. He stopped, glancing back. The wind howled and snow drifted through the in sheets, the rapidly dropping temperature making her shiver- only she didn't care this time.

"Why do you keep going back?" she blurted out. Not it was **her** question that surprised them both. But she'd always wondered herself, as much as she'd wondered why she'd stayed so long in the first place. She'd knew why she'd joined. Because of Mystique's betrayals, because Scott got to her, because of what the Wolverine had said to a scared and confused girl and how he'd said it. But neither of them had ever quite seemed to fit in- both always the quite one, the rebel, the loner, the ones outside the group with their attitude. She'd felt/heard enough that she should've joined the Brotherhood despite Mystique. Or maybe the Acolytes. And yet…

Logan broke into her thoughts with his next words, carefully considered/chosen like all his others. "Because Chuck gave me someplace to come back to, people to came back to. He gave me a dream, albeit a flawed one. And because he helped me regain something of my self and my memories and asked for little in return. I believed it made me a better person." He looked straight into her eyes and she knew all the torments in his past, how he'd been before Xavier found him, and knew that carried a lot of weight. "But the question isn't why it works for me. It's does it work for you?"

He left it unsaid that she'd already given her answer and what he made of that, she didn't know. But something passed between them in that second longer he held her gaze before he walked out once more. Something changed. Still Marie was silent, thoughts running through her head. "Logan?" she called again before he could shut the door completely, the ice thawing in her eyes. He peered through the crack, brow raised in question. "I'm coming with you."

* * *

They had been driving a couple of hours back towards New York when Logan decided they needed to stop for the night. Despite her protests that she'd be fine and he didn't need to stop for her (because she knew had it been just him he'd drive straight through), that they could keep driving. But he just gave her one of his looks, glancing pointedly at her seven months grown stomach and raised a brow. Rolling her eyes, she knew that was that and he'd brook no argument. So they'd pulled over and, letting him help her from the truck as he'd helped her in, she grabbed two of her bags and followed him in.

They rented a room with two beds for the night and the first thing Logan did after depositing all their stuff in the room was go for food. And lots of it. She was almost afraid to admit that in pregnancy her appetite just about matched Logans', but he just took her order with a grin. He'd only been gone about ten minutes when a long shadows fell across her as she was digging through her suitcase. "Hey, that was fast," she said almost chipperly, taking out her vitamins. She stopped, sniffing, the enhanced senses she'd taken from Logan long ago surfacing in her hunger. "Where's the food? I don't smell anything."

"De food will be a while commin' petite. Now we're going to have a little talk, hien?" she heard in a dangerous tone. She froze, recognizing the heavy Cajun-French accent as much as the scent of warm spices, bourbon, and cigarette smoke. Marie turned around very slowly, eyes wide and panicked. "Remy," she breathed, clutching the bottle of vitamins to her. His red-on-black eyes that gleamed out of the darkness flickered over her, lips curved into a dark facsimile of a grin. She swallowed heavily. That, combined with the shadows cast over his face, just enhanced the almost demonic look. "'Allo chére."

* * *


	9. Part Nine

**Secrets**

**Part Nine**

It took over a minute just to get over the shock of hearing his voice, of seeing him. And when he advanced into the room, she stepped back- only with the bed right behind her it was hard. So she skirted around it as he reached for her, some hidden women's part of her recognizing the threat he posed- both to her sanity and her heart if nothing else. And he clenched his empty fist at his side. "Do you realize how long I've been searching for you?" Remy asked, his voice little more than a growl. "But you disappear again and again. Without a word." Marie flinched, more at his tone and what was behind it than his words. But her own expression grew fierce.

"What does it matter anyway, huh? Why do you care, Mr. Playboy Extraordinaire?" she snapped, unable to tell him how she felt, unwilling to say she was afraid. 'Logan, where are you!' she cried mentally, glancing towards the empty doorway. She didn't want to confront Remy like this. Though she **did** deserve it, some part of her said mutinously. "Because I do!" he retorted, thunderous. Again, Marie noted the first person usage, a sign of the intensity of his feelings- anger predominant. "Because you're all that I can ever think about and I want you so bad I can hardly eat or sleep. And because you carry my child!" he continued, eyes flashing.

She thought she saw hurt there. But she was too shocked, and reeling from his revelation to delve deeper. Then his gaze touched on Logan's things and he glanced towards the door- where she just realized Logan now stood. The food was on the dresser and his arms were folded as he stared hard at them- Remy in particular. But he made no movements- as if assessing the situation and finding no real threat to her. 'Traitor.' Marie thought with a glare at the older man. He just cocked a brow at her. "But it looks like you feel otherwise!" Remy hissed, looking at Logan and stepping that way as if he wanted to blow him up.

Though the Cajun just turned back to her with fiery eyes- hearing the small sound of distress she'd made in the back of her throat? "Do you love him!" he demanded furiously, catching her wrist in a tight grip, there in front of her before she could blink. Behind them Logan growled warningly, uncoiling from his deceptively casual pose, though not going any further. 'He still doesn't believe Remy would really hurt me,' Marie thought dazedly. 'Even now.' "Do you!" The father of her child snarled, never more dangerous, jerking her arm harder. She was pulled back to his question and thrown into total shock.

Surely he didn't think…¦. Logan and her! No way! Everyone knew that….. but Remy, she realized, blown away. And he was jealous. She almost gasped as that came to her, with a shred of pleasure. But he didn't know. 'Cause he hadn't been there. He didn't even recognize Logan. Though why would he? She asked herself. They'd never really talked before, not even about her friends, her perceived family- and he'd never even seen Logan outside battle, when he was in costume. But still…. Remy thought….. Logan and her!

* * *

Remy had thought he'd go crazy when the cabin his contacts' tip lead him to had turned up empty. But after surveying the cabin, he found that it had indeed been Marie's. And by the looks of it, she'd left suddenly and with no plan of returning. Just like all the other places in the long string he'd investigated. He felt like he'd been gut-punched. Practically tearing the cabin up in his grief and anger, he left, taking to the road and hoping to assuage some of the pain inside. Or maybe that he'd spot Marie. But he hadn't. Though when he got a call on his cell phone from one of his guys saying 'the Cajun's woman' had been spotted heading southeast by this route, he'd veered around to find this hotel just off the side of the road- and the truck his contact had described.

After that it was just a matter of which room was hers- which wasn't much of a challenge for his skills. Picking open the lock on the door to see Marie there with his own eyes after three longs months had been overwhelming. His first instinct had been to rush forward and pull her into a tight embrace, to tell her he'd missed her and love her- to catch her before she was gone again or maybe see if she was really real and not some vision. But his second instinct was something else entirely. Then she spoke, her words the first indicator that something was wrong and that she wasn't alone.

And everything dark and dangerous swirling inside him exploded to the surface, increasing threefold as she turned around and his gaze, not without a touch of possessiveness, came to rest on her stomach, large with his child. **Their** child. A reminder of their first night together and how she'd ran, of her betrayal in not telling him when she'd had so many chances, of every night since. A never-ending chase. She squeaked as he grabbed her wrist and his mind jumped back to the present- where a brand new brand of gut-wrenching agony altogether awaited him.

She still hadn't answered his question. His jaw clenched. But Marie just stared off, appearing deep in shock. Shock that he had found her, discovered her secret? he wondered. Remy saw her eyes flit to the man in the doorway again, brows knit in confusion or in thought. "Answer me," he rasped, something as desperate as he was angry in his eyes. Subconsciously his grip tightened around her wrist, jerking again. She seemed to snap back to herself, yanking her wrist back and rubbing it as she glared at him. "Of course I do," she shot out with what looked like a glint of sickening satisfaction.

Her gaze went just past him, softening. Remy felt a sharp, blinding pain in his heart, breath stolen from him. Marie's eyes were cold on his, flashing as she made a sound of disgust for him? and shook her head. "As a mentor, a friend and a father figure," she rejoined, voice deadly quite over her surprise he'd thought more of them, eyes telling him she couldn't believe he considered her so low- though she'd had many guys in the past. So his relief was minor. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her 'friend and mentor' dip his head as if touched by her admission, however it was made. Marie's expression was bittersweet.

Then he knew that it was true, that she must've been just as close-mouthed about her true feelings about everyone else as she clearly was with him. And if he'd opened his own heart to her she'd just turn away, just find some way to cheapen it then run. But he'd seen/felt her fear and uncertainty behind her coldness. So he just held his tongue for now, no more able to say the words than she. "Why do you run then?" he found himself asking instead. "Is it so hard being with me?"

* * *

"Remy….." she burst out, full of fire, hands flying into the air in a wordless, useless gesture of uncontrolled fury, not knowing what to say, fingers clawed. She made a deep, guttural sound of anger, frustration and annoyance, shoving one hand through her long, wild mop of brown waves striped with white, shaking her head. Her baby gave a few kicks, daddy's little girl already, but she ignored them, fighting the calming influence and winning with a coldly chillingly victorious smile. Body coiled with tension, the poisonous smile dropped, she glared, eyes glittering like a vipers', hip slung, stance militant. 'No,' she wanted to tell him, 'It isn't. It's easy. So very easy. Too much so, in fact.'

And when everything else in her life came so hard; when everyone else she had ever dared trust… or dared love had betrayed her or left her- he stayed constant, and she didn't know how to take it. Not now. Her jaw clenched as she cleared her mind, pinning him again with her gaze, and still warring inside herself. "Don't make me do this." 'Don't make me feel or think or remember,' she continued in her mind like she couldn't aloud, hating the pleading tone of those words that was thankfully left out of those she spoke. "Don't make you do what? Admit you're human? Admit your true feelings for once without someone prying them from you?" Remy snapped, advancing.

Danger radiated from every inch of him, his beautiful red-on-black eyes hard. "Does your fear run that deep? Or are you that petty you can't even give me a simple answer?" His words stung, his tone venomous, and her hands fisted at her sides. Flames flickering in her eyes, she turned her back on him smartly, knowing he'd hate that, and started jamming things back into her suitcase. He was back on her in a second, grabbing her roughly and spinning her around to face him so hard and fast that her head swam. The suddenness of the move made her gasp at the same time, the shampoo bottle she had been holding dropping to the floor and rolling under the bed unheeded.

The violence and the rage, the ferocity on his face sent a hidden thrill of fear through her even as her gaze battled with his. She sent an almost desperate glance towards Logan but he wasn't looking at them, and her own sudden anger spiked hotly, a low hiss escaping her lips. But her eyes were hard when they returned to Remy's, his fingers a steel band around her wrist again, almost hard enough to crush bone though she didn't think he realized it. Yet she didn't feel a thing in all her fury as he hauled her straight flush against him despite her new girth- and it was like nothing else in the world existed.

"Didn't you like it?" he asked silkily, though the underlying threat in his body and voice had every nerve in hers screaming. He continued on, the question almost rhetorical, "I know you did. So what was it Marie? Was the pleasure too much for you?" He raked his gaze over her body so that she shivered visibly at the naked lust, at the utter intensity of it combined with a chilling coldness. But it was gone so quick it left her confused and wondering if she had imagined it. Throat dry, she forced her gaze to match his. Remy left no room for her to reply, to speak, but maybe that was good since she didn't think herself capable of it right now.

"Did those feelings, those moments in New Orleans and in the med lab, in your room sweep you away so completely and make you lose all control?" He laughed coldly, a stranger. "I bet that was it. You really don't like losing control, do you Marie? It scared you bad, didn't it? Almost as much as knowing you could lose your heart, your very soul." He paused, ignoring her stricken look, and her eyes closed- willing him to stop, willing herself not to hear anymore. "No, I think potentially losing your heart, letting someone else in, scared you the most. Because you knew any minute they could leave and your world would crumble, and you'd be too weak to stop it."

That was it. The final straw. Marie smacked him with everything in her, with all her strength (which was saying a lot), eyes all fire and ice, terrifying, though tears lay just beyond. She hated him right then more than she could ever remember hating- more so because every word he'd spoken was true. He stumbled back as much from the blow as from the power of her emotions, and she advanced on him, a lioness going in for the kill, a physical, emotional storm. She watched his face change from complete shock to a stony mask but was way past caring.

And her hand shot out, making a soft slap sound as it hit his cheek, green eyes near the black of death, hand sticking. She felt a thread of horror seep in through all her pain and anger but was unsure of who it came from- Remy, who saw what was coming next, herself, or Logan who's dark eyes were now on her. But she'd bet it was all three. Not that it mattered. Remy didn't even try to pull away, at least not physically (by will or by shock and horror), though she felt his heavy resistance- then she activated her powers.

This time she made sure it stick, standing over his unmoving body, having watched as he slowly crumbled, not even turning it off when he was on his knees- even when she came back to herself enough to feel for him. But only once she saw his eyes close, Remy so very weak, did Marie let the tears go. Rivers of them, oceans maybe, streamed down her cheeks unchecked, shoulders shaking slightly and lips trembling, though she never moved.

It was Logan who made her stop, who pulled her away- Logan who made her see what she was doing. She hadn't even heard him move from his post at the doorway. All she saw was Remy. Sad, beautiful Remy. "Alright Stripes, enough," he murmured so gently, arms wrapping around her from behind. "You're gonna kill him if you don't stop kid," he repeated, tugging. But still she didn't move, couldn't, hand almost permanently affixed to Remy's skin. So soft yet rugged, so pale, so enchanting… So wicked for his insight. "Marie!" Logan shouted, more of a roar, ripping her away. They both fell back, Marie finally snapping back to reality.

She hastily turned off her powers but with a snarl to Logan, shrugging (or more like shoving) him away almost angrily and turning back to Remy, roughly wiping her face. She was near faint with relief that Logan had pulled her back when she couldn't herself, almost paralyzed in horror of what she'd almost done, yet angry still. Though she knew her pain would've been greater if she'd assuaged her anger but destroying him completely. But now she bent over the Cajun, sitting on the balls of her feet, forearms resting on her thighs as she peered down at him, expression stormy, fierce.

"I'm not afraid Remy," she said to the unconscious man from between clenched teeth. Her voice was whisper soft but vehement. "Don't you ever call me afraid. You have no idea what I've been through. **No** **idea**. You life may have been rough, but so was mine. In ways you couldn't imagine." Visions of her life then of his played out in her head. Logan tried to pull her up again but she stood up on her own, using unnatural to force him back again, circling Remy furiously, using her stolen powers to keep her conversation private.

"You had people who admired you, took care of you, **wanted you** all your life. I haven't. You **chose** to cut yourself off from the people around you, push them away, keeping your heart, your true self from everyone- but I was forced. Putting my heart and my self out again and again only to be chewed up and spit out. Is it any wonder I turned out like this?" Her true mother hadn't wanted her, abandoned her at four years old to struggle on her own until Irene and Mystique found her, though only wanting her for her powers. Like the X-men. And she'd had to live her life without love and without touch even before her powers manifested because they feared her future powers.

But oh, how she had fought for them. Marie closed her eyes, gulping, years of lonely anguish washing over her. Her life since hadn't been much better. Scott, the first one she'd risked getting close to after Mystique's betrayal tore her up the first time, dropped her when Jean finally decided she liked him too. Not that she'd really blamed him. He'd like Jean first. And she could touch. She didn't have all that baggage either. Not that she cared anymore. Then Mystique's stint as Risty. And when she finally managed to patch her life together again… She closed her eyes against the inundation of renewed tears. She was still wondering if Logan was worth it again, despite what her heart told her.

"Is it any wonder?" she whispered out loud. Marie took a deep breath then opened her eyes again. "How could you ask me to go through that again? How are you any different from **them**?" But she made the mistake of letting her glance linger on him and in her moment of weakness she was struck by something unnamable. "Oh Remy," she sighed, brushing a stray lock of hair away from his forehead. A flood of softer emotions both hers and Remy's was unleashed, overwhelming her. Thoughts and memories too. She swallowed, savoring them before locking them back away in their cage and hiding them once more in the darkest corner of her mind.

In another of the wild/rapid mood changes she'd experienced over the past months, she leapt to her feet- her movements oddly smooth/graceful and swift in her condition. Her head swung around, glancing at Logan (who was staring at her like he'd never seen her before) over her shoulder, eyes dry and face unreadable. "Come on," she said coolly, briskly, grabbing her bags and heading for the dresser near the door, stepping around Remy's unconscious body. "Let's go, I wanna get out of here tonight. We can eat in the car." She avoided his gaze as she threw the last few things into a bag. "Marie…" he started, voice gruff. Her eyes met his stubbornly. "I want to leave Logan. If you don't come with me, then I'll go by myself."

Marie gave him a smile that was way too strained, seeing the warning flash across his face with his low growl, trying a different tack even if her words rang false. "Really Logan, I'm fine. I don't need the rest. I just need to go." Though she knew she'd been struggling by herself, health slipping and body exhausted/slowing down- she also knew he wouldn't let her go alone, even if she had the power to teleport out and run again. So she was sure he'd have to agree and go now. "You **do** need to rest Marie," he said in that don't-argue-with-me tone, looking over her, at her large stomach. "Lots of it. And you're going to get it."

"Here!" she squeaked in shock, outrage, desperation. He nodded, unmoving, his body language saying that was that. She'd been wrong about him. And he knew her better than she thought. And Marie knew better than to try and change his mind- now that she was in no condition to fight it that is. But she still protested, sputtered, and cursed. The southerner threw down her bags, shooting him nasty looks. "Fine," she retorted at last, lip curled, chin in the air as she eyed him haughtily. "Then could you move **him** onto the other side of the bed?" she asked coolly with one eyebrow arched, gesturing to Remy as she slid onto one side and propped herself up on the pillows.

Logan just raised a brow but did as she asked and Marie sniffed as he turned out the lights and took his own bed. "Goodnight Logan," she said in a sarcastic drawl. He didn't respond except with his own attitude and she rolled her eyes with a slight sigh, looking at the unconscious father of her child with wary/nervous eyes and roiling emotions. But she took his hand as she fell asleep. It certainly had nothing to do with any sort of affection, she assured herself. It was to protect her well being, preserve her sanity. If she felt the slightest stir of consciousness from her, even in her sleep, she was putting him in a coma. "Yep, nothing to do with love," she yawned before her eyes fluttered shut for the final time, not even realizing what she'd said.

* * *

In the morning her fingers were still entwined with Remy's, and Remy was still quite unconscious (a quick mind check proved that it was sound and her powers had worked just as she'd wanted them to over-night). But that wasn't all. Marie found her body entwined with his as well- their joined hands resting over his heart with her head tucked under his chin and one of her legs trapped between both of his as his body cradled hers and their child. It felt wonderful- his warmth, his scent all around her, feeling the strength of him around her and his heart beating under her hand. And it felt like heartbreak. Face hot, she scrambled away from Remy and nearly fell off the bed in the process, impeded by her new size.

Heart pounding and head whipping around to look for Logan, she ignored the sluggish kick her baby made as she moved away. "Don't you start with me too," she muttered. Hearing the faucet running in the bathroom, she relaxed a bit but prayed he hadn't seen her like that with Remy- or if he had, that he wouldn't mention it. This was bad enough. And she didn't want him looking at her like he had last night- that look like she was a stranger or like she was doing something so wrong, that look like he was disapproving or could see something she couldn't and was supposed to.

Sneaking a look back to the bed to see Remy still there in the same position, she cursed herself for her weakness and went to her suitcase for a fresh pair of clothes. She was heading back towards the bathroom as Logan came out and she flashed him a nervous look, a weak smile as she passed him, eyes skittering around his. She was sure she knew what she'd find there. And his disappointment would shatter her. Taking a long shower to clear her head (and to rid herself of Remy's scent) Marie re-dressed and, feeling no more relaxed, joined the Canadian for breakfast. One spent in silence and with her still avoiding his gaze, mind in turmoil.

"Why didn't you do something yesterday!' she wanted to cry out as they rode back towards New York, tears in the back of her eyes. She was tearing herself up inside with her anger, but it was anger more directed at herself. 'Why did you just stand there? Why didn't you at least **say** something!' Though all her questions were ones she already had the answers to. He'd wanted them to talk it out, to settle what was between them for better or worse- he wanted to see her prove she was the Rogue/Marie he'd known, cared for, and guided all these years. He'd wanted her to learn, to grow and face her fears, overcome the obstacles and shed failed both of them. But he was the one that let her destroy herself **and** Remy, Marie thought furiously, roughly wiping away her tears.

He let them destroy each other. And the matching thoughts in his head (funny how now she had no reservations about using those powers she'd stolen and recently come to control) only fed what was to her righteous anger/hatred. She could see the fragile trust that had only just recently been restored hanging by a thread once more. Both ways. 'Though who's fault is it really?' that unknown voice whispered again to her subconscious. She shrunk away from that voice and its' accusations, its truths. And her mind flashed back to Remy before she caught herself. She'd made it worse, that was certain. Irreparable. Especially since she carried his child. Seven months along, in fact.

Would the baby's first memories not be her own? She wondered briefly, almost worriedly, an ache in her gut. Would they be those she'd just absorbed into her- and those of her mothers' betrayal? Was she no better than all those who had hurt her in her own past? Squeezing her eyes shut against a fresh swell of tears, both bitter/angry and sorrowful, she ran a hand through her hair again, unable to choke back the small, tormented sound. "You okay kid?" she heard Logan ask in his soft-rough voice she'd once compared to a fine whisky, the effect about the same. "Yeah, fine," she murmured, swallowing repeatedly to get a grip on the gradually (very gradually) declining anguish and slowly opening her eyes, somehow finding a measure of calm again.

Staring out the front window, the fist she'd been clenching and unclenching out the side window (open despite the cold, snowy weather) glowed with intense kinetic energy. She felt his hand on hers (the one she'd left on the seat) and jumped a mile, glancing furtively at Logan who was looking at her with his too sharp eyes. A shimmer of realization lit into her and slightly in shock she discharged the kinetic energy, hastily glancing away from those eyes. She gritted her teeth all the way back to Bayville, still staring out the front wind, mind storming.

Suddenly snapping to attention as they rolled through town, she held up a hand for him to halt the vehicle, her bleak, sober eyes asking him not to pose any questions. "This is where I get off," she said, grabbing her stuff and sliding out- making a face as she did but successfully hiding her grunt. When he opened his mouth to speak, brows furrowed, she stopped him with a wry half-smile and a spark of tender amusement in otherwise empty eyes, communicating with him on a psychic level. "I'll see you around Logan." Whatever he was about to say died on his lips and in his eyes, mouth closed and mind quiet.

And he just nodded, face unreadable again. He recognized that stubborn look, the one that declared it didn't matter what he said she was going to do what she wanted so no arguments. It was look she'd gotten from him. Marie gave him a small but genuine smile that time and one last hug before she was gone, walking towards the small hotel as he drove off. 'I need to see some people and get a few things settled still, Logan. But I'll find my way again, I always do. Then… who knows? I might find Him.'

* * *


	10. Part 10

Part 10

Whenever she looked at herself in the mirror, when she saw the baby growing beneath her heart and that too old look in her eyes, she remembered him. She liked to remember him, some part of her at least. No matter what else she felt right then, she did. It had been so long since she had first run, so long since he had held her, since she had had held him, and comforted herself in his embrace. Yet it seemed like only yesterday instead of just under a week since she'd almost killed him. She ducked her head, eyes filling. Almost killed him for telling the truth. For his righteous anger. Marie wiped a rogue tear away. He was more than a man to her, he was more than Remy- and more than Gambit, the ragin' Cajun... he was inside her.

She could still feel him, in her head... and she understood him... even more than she understood herself. That was the only blessing. Feeling him. And she didn't deserve it, not with what she did to him. But on those lonely nights, she would reach out to him, and he would be there. As she grew, as she changed, the only thing that didn't was that he was still there. Inside of her, still so angry at first, then comforting her like he had for those fleeting days when everything had still been beautiful and right. It was need, it was intimacy, the only real intimacy she had ever had. At nights, she would close her eyes, her palms over her stomach, and she would reach out to him... and he was there... he was always there. Until he began to fade. She still didn't know how he'd lasted as long as she did.

Maybe it's 'cause she hadn't wanted him to leave her, maybe because having him in her mind, just below her consciousness, was something she needed in her, like a blanket. It was proof that he existed... that what had happened was real... that there was someone like him out there... that he was still out there. Proof outside this wonder she carried with her, this miracle. His feelings inside her had been soft, quiet, and yet at times violent... and when they began to leave her she hadn't fought it... she'd thought it was time to move on... to try and get past it... As some part of her thought/hoped he had. She hadn't wanted to believe his love was true because of what it meant. She'd been beginning to think she'd imagined it, and she'd been relieved. Because she, of all people, knew that that kind of love brought only pain.

And then he found her again. And she wasn't surprised... she felt him inside, getting antsy, his consciousness fading and not liking that one bit... he was like that... He didn't give up easy. He never really did. She didn't know why she'd been expecting to see him. But she had. And there he was, next to her... and it was like nothing had changed. And she touched him, an angry touch supported by fear. And with that fading caress... It all lit up inside of her. Every emotion, every thought, the feel of him, inside her, who he was... who he wanted... what he wanted. So she got scared. So she ran again. He'd never want her back now. He'd never forgive her. She'd made a mistake. A huge one. Marie knew that now as she hadn't before. Funny how the past always comes back to haunt you, affecting you in ways you would've never imagined. And it wasn't always noticeable, wasn't always easy to overcome. And it was surprising who finally helped her realize that…

She had gone back to visit the Brotherhood two days after she got back to Bayville; two first days that she had used to try and stabilize herself, to try and settle what was inside her- to some extent. And it took her two more days to bring herself to tell her friends what had happened in all the time she had been gone. She'd been so taken in by the warmth, joy and welcome they'd offered after not seeing her for so long she hadn't wanted to ruin it with the confession of what she'd done. Though the Brotherhood had taken it in stride, and hadn't condemned her like the X-men. They'd already almost made her cry with their combined outrage at how the 'X-geeks' turned on her and declarations that they didn't deserve her.

But Toad and Blob had been surprisingly sympathetic, Pietro had just made her blush/laugh by saying that pregnancy or not she was still gorgeous and he'd be happy to take away her blues (besides saying Gambit had all that coming), Lance made her think and Wanda made her see. She'd felt guilty when Lance had told her of how hurt and worried Kurt and Kitty had been with her departure, Wolverine, when he **had** been there (when he wasn't out looking for her) had been even more dark/brooding and quicker with the claws. But what left her reeling was when he told her that in her absence Kitty had turned into a little spitfire, taking on the rest of the X-men and tearing into them (even turning her anger on Xavier and Ororo) and at the least knocking some guilt into the team.

He said according to Kitty, even Jean had been quiet/reflective and sad- and Scott looked pretty remorseful/ guilt-ridden too, keeping to himself a lot of the time. And part of her had been smug/satisfied he felt so bad. Yet she was also thoughtful. And Marie had been laying back on the couch alone reflecting, Pietro off on some date, Toad in his room, Blob in the kitchen whipping something up, and Lance out with Kitty (whom he'd promised not to tell she was back yet) when Wanda walked in. She had given her a half-hearted smile, trapped in the dark vortex of her mind, only slightly aware of it when the girl she'd often identified with sat down next to her, asking her what was wrong. So she'd confided in her, biting her lip and knowing that she must sound completely crazy or bitchy but also that Wanda would understand. Though her insight had surprised her.

Marie shook her head with a half smile. Memories of her conversation with the raven-haired Goth, mostly of what she'd said to her, came into her mind. "As corny as it sounds, I heard that sometimes our emotional programming can cause us to seek out emotional situations that are similar to those we experience in childhood, positive or negative. We gravitate to the familiar, you know?" Wanda had shrugged but Marie saw a flash of pain in the cerulean eyes. "When you're young, your home is the main source of love and safety in your life. Even if there was violence or chaos in your house, it's still 'home'- where you're fed, where you had a place to sleep and received some sort of attention. So you associate love with home- and home with other characteristics based on your experiences there." Wanda had met her gaze, lips tipped up in a wry smile.

"Like if there was just a lot of fighting in your house, home equals chaos. If one of your parents were abusive, home might equal fear. And if you weren't shown much love or affection, or you were abandoned or betrayed, home equals loneliness, abandonment and betrayal." Marie winced at that, face stricken, not only for herself but for Wanda. "So your mind tells you that love is supposed to feel like chaos, loneliness, abandonment/ betrayal and fear." She swallowed, murmuring, "You unconsciously choose what is familiar." Her baby gave a kick almost as if in sympathy and she put a hand on her stomach, a wave of strength and comfort filtering in. Wanda nodded, closing her eyes briefly, "And you anything like me love in your brain is associated with danger and pain. So of course it wouldn't feel right to be loved, of course you wouldn't be attracted to 'nice guys' or guys that would otherwise be perfect for you. Because it feels too good- or it feels too peaceful to be love."

The raven-haired girls' eyes darkened and Marie knew she was talking about herself as well. "Or you could love someone in childhood- your father, your mother, your big brother, another guardian, but if they took something from you- your power, your self-esteem, your innocence, your voice, you unconsciously think of them as 'the enemy'. So when you get older, meet someone and you love them, automatically in your mind you think 'people I love are the enemy. I have to hold my ground' so you end up sabotaging it and you remain unhappy." Marie ducked her head but words and images came at her- ghosts of her past. Then Wanda's came at her, her stolen telepathy picking up the strong vibes. The stripe-haired girl looked up at Magneto's daughter in wonder and amazement. She was right. She saw image from Wanda's past, and they could've been a copy of her own- pain, loneliness, anger, pushing people away. A long line of them.

Then came another one, the last one. A recent memory. Wanda embracing someone- the Acolyte Pyro, or St. John Allderyce. Marie laughed. So that was why the other girl had been absent so much lately- and why she'd been so happy. And, knowing she'd gotten it, Wanda's smile was almost blinding. **She** had done it. There was hope. 'If you can only get past the pain, if you can only finish that unfinished emotional business from you childhood,' the echo of a thought reached her. Her look turned reflective, brows furrowed. Musing over this new advice, these new revelations/truths, she'd barely noticed Wanda leaving. 'Irene. Mystique.' She thought. A hot stab of pain hit her. She'd face them first. Then she needed to see Kitty. Then she needed to face the X-men.

She didn't **want** to forgive Irene for hurting her as a child. As she stood in front of her house in Caldecott County, Mississippi she thought of all those painful, lonely years as a child, after her birth mother abandoned her, without touch even then and without trust. Irene had been afraid of her even then, afraid to get close, because she had seen what 'Rogue' could do- though unknowingly she contributed to their manifestation. The shock of that gentle touch, that first real contact outside that of the woman who'd adopted her, had thrown her powers into gear. She'd wanted to hate her. Not as much as she wanted to hate Mystique, but she had. Yet after facing Irene, with all her hurt and anger, and seeing the blind woman's fear and regret, something changed. And she couldn't tell whether it was due to the child in her womb or not.

But she'd stalked out of there, coldness and disgust radiating from her though part of her was settled, and she set her path for Mystique. Mystique had gotten the worst of her frustration and pain and anger, had gotten more when Marie physically went at her, but Mystique she also felt a closer connection with- despite the fact she hurt her ten times worse than Irene. The emotions ran wilder, but also deeper- and it wasn't all just hatred and hostility/negativity. And when the fighting was through, Marie using her stolen powers without much movement and Mystique dodging, trying to get her own blows and scratches in, when they were both panting and visibly weakened, they broke apart and stumbled back. "So what's **this** fight about Marie?" Raven heaved, expression going between pique, irritation, frustration and a wary/hurt look. Marie pretended not to notice, eyes flashing. "What **isn't** this about?" she shot back, half circling the blue woman. "But maybe I thought I'd get a few things cleared up now that I'm going to have a child myself."

"A child…" Raven whispered, shaking her head, all these rare emotions displayed again for anyone to see. She reached out, placing her palm over the stripe-haired woman's stomach and Marie felt a slight, fiery sensation before, to her shock, Mystique jerked her hand back in a hurry, cradling it. She'd burned her! But how! The child, she realized dazedly. Her and the blue mutant had been fighting, then she touched her stomach and got burned. Her baby girl already had her powers and she wasn't even born. "What..!" Raven gasped, looking at her, wide-eyed. Marie forced back her own confused, dazed, shocked expression and put one on of smug knowing. A dangerous spark in her eyes, she continued, "You wanted to know what it's about? It's about my childhood, or lack there-of. It's about you adopting me at four, caring for me, then leaving me to Irene's questionable care. It's about my powers developing and your hatred for the X-men driving you to terrorize an already scared and confused girl. It's about Risty."

Pain shone from her adopted mother's face and it was impossible **not** to notice. Marie felt a pang in her heart but toughened herself up, telling herself this had been coming to her- that it was **her** time. "You don't know the whole story." The stripe-haired girl curled a lip though part of her was curious. "Oh really?" A spark of anger lit in Raven's eyes but she slumped, defeated, against a stack of crates. "Me and Erik were involved a long time ago. Both of us had infant children but neither of us cared. We… came together over shared goals and beliefs." Marie just looked at her shocked, trying to absorb this fact while the blue woman continued. "Later he started getting into mutant testing, experimentation with genetics and such… improvements and manipulation. He used Pietro and Wanda as subjects. Then Kurt was involved. Something……happened. I ran, and in the process lost my baby boy. I was devastated." Raven looked up at her with grief in her eyes. "I searched and searched but with no luck. But I found this precious little child… you. I adored you. I could almost pretend that you were mine. It wasn't just because of your powers, Marie. It never was." She turned her head away.

"But my continued searches for Kurt took me further and further away. Then there were problems… with the world then, with my life, with Erik returned. And Xavier…." she added with a hiss, hands clenching into fists. Marie was surprised at her vehemence. But the shapeshifter didn't explain. "I had to leave you," Raven said sadly, turning back to Marie. "So I left you with Irene. I told her to do whatever she had to to make things right, to see you were happy and healthy. But even when I exhausted my leads, my resources and almost all hope was lost finding the child I bore, I couldn't return to you. I made a deal with Erik. He would help me. Yet I didn't want him to find out about you or your great promise. Not because I didn't trust him, though my trust was weak, not that I thought he would hurt you, but for my own selfish reasons. And I knew he'd want you. The years passed quicker than I thought they would- especially with the break down in Europe." Again, she didn't elaborate.

Her adopted mother bowed her head. "I found my son. But by that time Xavier already had him in his firm grip. And I was the enemy. You were practically all grown-up and I didn't think you would want me back in you life. Not after I tried to see you again that last time." Marie was the one to look away this time, jaw clenched. 'You were wrong,' she thought sadly, even knowing how angry and stubborn she'd been then- Irene's explanations and platitudes or no. '**I** was wrong. I still wanted you back, I still needed you… I still cared.' Raven said softly, "I figured I had another chance when Irene called me and told me your powers had emerged. I was scared, worried, angry at myself, even more when I discovered Xavier's team was on his way too, but still hopeful. I don't know what provoked me, but I knew I couldn't lose you again, I knew I had to mend things, had to get you first. So I had to make sure Xavier's team didn't succeed. Ever." She laughed harshly, wryly, "But it was because of that I truly **did** lose you."

Marie's eyes were teary, her voice hoarse as she fought a battle within herself, and she was on her feet, pacing, remembering. "You could've just come to me, could've explained, could've **helped me through that**. I would've gone with you!" The shapeshifter smiled sadly, "No you wouldn't have. You would've one with them just too spite me if you could, just to rebel. And Xavier can be **very** persuasive. I couldn't take the chance." Marie glanced away, knowing she was right. "I was scared, and confused. I put a boy in the coma, just by touching him! I had his memories, his voice in my head! I didn't know what was happening to me! And then you—" she cut off, unable to continue. When she met Raven's eyes again, tears were streaming down her cheeks. Mystique's apparent pain didn't make her feel any better. "And why Risty?" she raged, "Why? Why did you do that to me! Pretend to be my friend, get close to me, make me care, then—" she choked.

"I wanted to be in your life! Even if you couldn't come back with me, be on my side, be my daughter again. Even if Xavier had you, I wanted, needed that! What was so bad about that!" Marie couldn't respond to that, but her eyes flashed. Her baby kicked again and she smiled tremulously for a moment, putting a hand on her big stomach. But her gaze narrowed on Raven, swallowing, expression suddenly chilled, fierce. "It was still a betrayal. My whole life is full of them, of you. I was never able really trust someone, much less **love** them after that. How am I supposed to now?" She sobbed. "I had an okay life, not good, but I got by. Then I met this amazing guy, and I push him away, hurt him, and it's killing me. And now with my child…" The tears came faster, her body wracked by them, and suddenly Raven was there, her arms around her. Marie just leaned into her, both of them crying. It was Raven's fault…. The X-men's fault…. **her** fault, she realized. All of this… "I'm sorry baby," she heard Mystique whisper. Her mother. Not by blood, but by choice, by love.

Where they touched, skin-on-skin, tingled and Marie felt a familiar tingle, forgetting her control with the intensity of the moment and their emotions. She stiffened, crying out as Raven's memories and feelings rushed through her, she pushed her away, putting her head in her hands as she tried to assimilate it. She could barely hear, "I'm so sorry. It seems I have a habit of ruining people's lives. I certainly did a job on ours…" "Must run in the family," Marie choked out, half-laugh half-sob. They both laughed, drying their tears. Why didn't she see all this before? Why couldn't she have known all this sooner? So much time lost, so much hurt because of it. "I'm sorry too," the stripe-haired girl said softly. "For my part." She put her hand on her stomach. And Raven, tentatively reached out again, her hand on Marie's, on her stomach. A brightness and warmth burst over her this time, over them both, and she smiled.

"Everybody has to grow up and face their past, their mistakes sometime. Or live a life of pain and regret. Not much of a life, really. It's a crazy family we got, but it'll work. We can make it work." A shadow stole over her face, and she turned her head. "X-men will see soon enough that their perception of right and wrong, their foolish idealism and picture of the world is far different from reality. **This** is reality. Their blindness, their stubbornness and ignorance, their scheming… I don't need any of it. And when I face them…" She laughed coolly, a bit harshly, and Raven put a hand on her cheek, turning her head back towards hers. "Promise you'll be extra careful." Once Marie would've sneered and sit out something like 'A little late for motherly advice' or 'After all these years, you decide to be concerned now!' but instead a small, soft smile curved her lips. "Aren't I always?" At her adopted mothers' look she grinned, "Okay, I promise. After all, I have another to care for now." She stood up, giving Raven a last hug before she left.

But her confidence and surety was dwindling as she strolled through the mansions' gates with false casualty. Her confidence and surety was dwindling, but her anger and a welcome, cool numbness was growing. She could feel the eyes on her, though her escalated power allowed her to block the telepaths' from her mind, and she turned to give them all a chilling look. As far as she was concerned, they were all on her hit list. A bunch of narrow minded, idiotic, traitorous… Wait, was this her or Mystique? She shrugged. A combination of both then, who cares?

As she was headed up the steps, she knew everyone, or most everyone, had already been informed of her arrival… and her condition. She grinned wickedly. Well, let them talk. She'd meet their hatred, hostility and coolness with the like, freeze them in place, and meet their fear with laughter. Marie burst through the big front doors, startling several younger and older students, and saw Kurt, Scott, Amara and Bobby coming down the grand staircase, Logan rounding the corner from the kitchen. Seeing her, he just smirked, but she could see in his eyes he was real glad to see her there. She grinned back almost goofily, silently telling him that she'd talk to him later and filling him in on a few things as well as a laughed mental note 'after I talk to Kitty and stick it to Xavier and the rest, I'll find you again.'

He took all this in with a nod and a smile, rounding the corner again, and she greeted the rest with cold looks and a fearsome expression as she stormed up the stairs, brushing them of like flies. Except for Kurt, that is, she gave him a hug, a warm greeting, and talked a bit before she turned to find Kitty, who was just heading back to her room after a DR session according to her brother. She gave him another hug and invited her to come with him but though she could see he wanted to catch up some more, he held up a hand and said that if she needed to talk to Kitty then go do so and he'll see her later- he wasn't much interested in girl talk, he laughed. Nodding, she gave Scott an evil look, and went upstairs.

Jean couldn't sleep again. It had been getting harder and harder over the past few months. And she didn't care to admit to herself why. Stretching, she left for the bathroom, running her slender fingers through her hair and looking at herself in the mirror. It was a tired face that looked back. Jean's telepathic mind had its merits, of course, but her curiosity and empathy for others made her need to use it that much harder to resist. The look of tension on Scott's face when he saw Gambit again, the sight of desperate worry in Marie's eyes, the infinite sadness in the young girl's face that never seemed to quite go away. Jean leaned against the dresser, taking a breath, her morning suddenly clouded with thoughts of the girl with the old eyes. The young woman had surprised them all.

Despite her looks, and her wisdom and maturity of the people who's memories she had absorbed, it was still a hard adjustment to make, to stop treating Marie like a child and as a comrade instead. A soft smile that turned into a grimace made Jean shake her head. It was impossible really, to try and read Marie. Unlike Scott, who she knew so well, Marie's mind was a lot like Logan's. Wild, fearful, and at times, frightening. And it was in those times, when Jean got a glimpse, that she felt for the girl the most. It was hard to know how to talk to her. Marie had a good heart, albeit a bit wild, and to absorb so much and know so much and try to process it while fighting fears so deeply ingrained all at a time when you barely knew yourself… It was indeed a frightening prospect. She had felt the prickling, the desperation in the young woman's face the days before she'd disappeared again, and like always, Marie refused to share, blocked herself out.

It was dangerous. A maelstrom was going through the woman's mind, and bottled up the way it was, Jean knew the danger of cracking. And Marie was the last person they needed to crack. She took another breath, running the comb through her hair and changing out of her work-out clothes, dressing quickly and quietly. Shutting the door quietly behind her, the telepath walked down the corridor, gently reaching out as she always did in the mornings, to check over the others, to find Scott's. Which was caught up in very intense but confusing, and to her painful, thoughts/fantasies. About Marie. Squeezing her eyes shut, she jerked her mind a way. She knew it wasn't anything, right? Surely those lingering feelings couldn't touch what they had… could they?

She took a breath and tried to think of something else. Her steps paused slightly as she approached the room that had always held a different aura. Marie's dreams had been an outlet for the young girl, and when Jean had expressed her concerns to the professor about allowing Marie to experience them, and the Professor had merely entered her mind and told her to leave Marie be. She shook her head. She couldn't just leave Marie be. Not when the girl was hurting so- Her mind stretched out, seeking, and Jean paused. Confused but heart a little lighter. Speaking to Kitty, her mind had calmed, not quite peaceful, but for Marie, it was close. There was still agitation, pain, when Gambit's name was brought up once more…. But love, ah, there was love there too. And acceptance. She shut down the link, closing her eyes, and taking an inward breath.

Marie always had an attachment to Gambit, for a while now anyway- it was only natural. She had wanted Gambit to find Marie, knowing somehow the tortured souls could find a link in each other, knowing as she tried to peruse Marie's taxed mind that maybe he was the one person who could break through to her. She had encouraged it in her mind, and to Marie. And then she had seen the sheer desperation, the pain in her face, and suddenly it was all wrong. Jean leaned against the door, the conflicted emotions seeping inside of her, and when she heard the movement inside, she quickly walked away. In her troubled state, she knew that the only one who would be able to make sense of it, the only one with any right to know, was her mentor. And Storm with him.

He leaned against the wall, watching the door of the room Marie had been closed off in for over an hour, Kitty's room, and catching bits of the conversation. Scott didn't feel a thing inside his chest where he knew his heart should be. He closed his eyes, and took a ragged breath, and then turned, walking to the door and knocking lightly. There was movement heard inside, and Scott stepped back when the door opened. Apparently, somewhere along the journey to find herself, Marie had realized that her gift did not necessarily mean a loss of style, or femininity, and it showed. Only over the months the skin tight black blouse was traded in for a looser shirt with butterfly sleeves in deep purple that drifted softly over her, the slim fitting leather pants switched with soft black slacks that had an elastic waistband. But the boots remained.

The outfit accented her figure perfectly, made to reveal the beauty in the pregnant form, flowing where it needed to flow and snug where it was supposed to be snug. The short leather gloves on her hands were hidden by the long sleeves of the black trench coat she had chosen. It was cut simply, draping inwards slightly at the hips and flaring out, ending at her knees. The style was modern, sexy and somehow even coming close to being immodest, despite the fact that she was covered almost completely head to toe. And his eyes went back to her rounded stomach. Scott felt himself swallow, emotions rising in his chest. Damn it. "Scott," she greeted coolly, warily. He noticed her looking at him oddly.

Behind her he could see Kitty rising to her feet, as if standing by in case Marie needed her. "What is it this time?" He gave her a small smile despite all the negativity, veiled animosity he felt from her. "Professor X wants to see you." "Now?" she asked, raising a brow. "Yeah." She gave him another look, but when he only returned it, she shrugged. "Alright. I'll see him before I leave. He'll just have to wait a minute. Wonder why he didn't just go into my head and summon me like he usually did," she muttered more to herself. "He figured that would be... intruding," Scott answered for her anyway. "Sure." She snorted. Like Xavier was really worried about intruding now. She looked back at Kitty before her gaze found Scott's again. "You gonna stand there all night?"

"Right. In a minute then." The field leader of the X-men coughed, feeling like the fifteen-year-old he no longer was as he ducked his head, walking back to the door. Leaning against the door outside, he shook his head. Five long years. It had taken Gambit one day to throw it all away. One damn day. Forget that Jean had been there with him, been his first and closest friend, maybe more, for even longer- forget the tenderness and affection he felt for her but pushed aside without analyzing. And forget that fact he missed four months afterwards and another three months after the make-up day.

Scott smirked to himself at that- at Marie having left him twice. But then the look fell, turning bitter. Scott had seen it coming. The minute she'd gotten back from New Orleans, he'd seen the difference in her, the look in her eyes when she recounted her vacation- carefully leaving out her fling of course. Then again that night the all the truths came out. It had scared the hell out of him, and Scott knew now, the sparkle in Marie's eyes could only mean one thing. She was in love with the bastard. DAMN.

The professor's face was hard to read, and Jean Grey sat back in her chair, not wanting to reach out to him, so tense herself she didn't have the patience or the discipline it took to cloud his mind. Licking her lips, she looked to Storm. But the older woman just shook her head, looking back to Xavier. And the redhead wondered if the two were communicating privately. Then Xavier spoke aloud, breaking the silence again, "We'll have to keep this quiet." Jean closed her eyes, nodding. "It disturbs you?" Jean smiled wearily, rubbing her temple with the slender fingers. "Should it?" Xavier was quiet, leaning back on his chair. "I knew it would happen, sooner or later." "Marie and Gambit?" Her voice broke the stillness, her eyes opening. "Marie and anyone," he remarked, brows furrowed, a frown on his face.

"Marie is a very passionate woman. And quite the dreamer, despite the pain she's put herself through by choosing to deny her true feelings and pretend she's not," Ororo sighed softly, shaking her head. Xavier nodded at that, frown deepening. "She's conflicted," Jean observed softly in silent agreement, running her hands through her hair. "And rightly so. Scott's pain before we found him was minimal compared to some of what she's gone through," Ororo commented. She remembered the day her, Xavier and Jean had taken in the young man with the laser eyes. He'd learned to hide behind his mask, and it had taken Jean years to break through the invisible barrier Scott had erected around himself. He had made himself believe that his affliction would hurt anyone he got close to, and only recently had he been truly able to believe that his affliction was not a handicap, but a gift. Scott had been able to move on with his life.

"Marie, I'm afraid, was not so lucky," Xavier said aloud with a sad smile. Xavier had not realized how affected Marie was by the memories in her head until she began to act differently towards him. There was a sad affection in her eyes as she looked at him, a tender familiarity swathed with disappointment and confusion that he felt directed at him. He had attempted to read her/ reach out to her, they all had, Ororo getting the closest of the three, but her mind had closed down, almost as if she'd done it purposely. Absorbing Mystique all those times had affected her greatly. Mystique and all the others of the Brotherhood. Not to mention Magneto. Yet he still hadn't realized what had really happened until the day she was in his office, having her personal conference, and she slipped and accidentally called him "Charles," in a familiar drawl that made him freeze. She had flushed immediately, tried to close herself off, and Xavier wouldn't have it.

He had sat with her, made her talk to him, and he was glad he did. The knowledge that the young girl had seen everything Eric had seen, had known what Charles was like in a time that seemed so long ago... It was both heaven-sent and a bit frightening. But Charles knew she couldn't see that shook him, and instead of reacting as she would've suspected, with disbelief and embarrassment, he'd nourished it, talked about her memories, their shared memories. She had been fascinated with Magneto, with Eric. He was in her head, swimming, mingling with all the others, and Xavier was often afraid that Eric's rather warped views of mutant/human relations would afflict her. Combined with Logan's temper and Remy's explosive personality now bubbling under her surface, it could not be good at all.

But no, she had explained to him late one night, that although she understood Eric's convictions, she didn't entirely agree with them. And it was during those long nights of chess that she would speak slowly about the horrors Eric had faced, seen things that Eric had never told Charles. She was still very much the girl, but her eyes were old, sometimes fiery, like Logan's, sometimes sad, and wise, like Erik's- sometimes cold and vengeful like Mystique's. In those long night sessions, he had gained a friend, and she had gained a bit of control... control that was almost torn from her the day she absorbed Mystique at the concert and everything in her revolted. They'd almost lost her that day- she almost died. And she hadn't been the same since. All that hard work… And now they were close to losing her again.

_Maybe this is good for her. _The statement invaded his mind, tearing him from his thoughts, and he looked up to Jean, her eyes somewhat brighter. "I felt her... she... was peaceful peaceful. As much as she's been in a long while anyway." "Then why did you come to me if you think this is good for either of them?" Jean's eyes flickered down and she said nothing. Xavier closed his eyes, his mind flowing, thinking, and finally he sent out the words he had carefully chosen. '_Their powers are destructive. They've almost killed each other before. I care about Marie._' _So does he_ '_I warned them not to do this. This is something she does NOT need.'_ Jean could sense the unnatural anger that accompanied the tone and her eyes opened in surprise. And confusion.

When had he been in contact with either the Rogue, much less the Acolyte? But she asked after the second part, "How do we really know that?" The silence that followed the spoken sentence was broken when the door opening signaled they were no longer alone. "Someone call for a bonafide southern girl?" As Marie leaned inside the doorway, Xavier let himself smile a bit. She had certainly changed. Become more assured, more comfortable with herself. The corners of her lips were tipped up, a soft amusement on her face, reminders of her visit with Kitty. She stood on the doorway, hand gripping the oak panel. She was dressed in solid dark colors, her choice both becoming and sophisticated while comfortable.

The shock of white in her long auburn hair seemed to complete the ensemble perfectly, and the glint in her eyes that accompanied it sprinkled with a wisdom, mystery, and cool wariness. Her codename had been chosen well. Rogue indeed looked the part. "Good morning, Marie," Jean said, turning, smiling tightly. "Mornin'." She closed the door behind her, and nodded to the professor, and eyebrow lifted and a coolly amused smile on her lips as she leaned back on it. "There some reason why you want me right quick? Special mission or a game of chess? Or maybe to formally welcome me back because you know—" The look on their faces made her trail off and her expression faltered when he said passively, "Sit down, Marie."

For the first time in a while, Jean was scared to wonder what someone was feeling. The room was dead silent, and she shuffled in her chair, feeling her heart shudder within her. She could feel Marie's wild eyes on her, could sense the judgment, and she closed her eyes against them. _Oh, Marie... I'm sorry... I had to- _"Get the hell out of my mind." The statement cut through the air, and Xavier sat up, his eyes warily watching the young mutant, his face full of sad regret. "Marie, you don't understand. What we're saying-" "What you're sayin'," she interjected slowly, forcefully, looking up, her eyes flashing. "Is, on top of everything else, that I'm too much of a loose cannon to get involved with someone that's just as dangerous as me. You think we can't handle it. You don't trust him, and you don't trust me."

She curled a lip in disgust, "After that night, the night everybody turned on me and I became a stranger/a traitor to my own friends and family, I would've believe this of everyone else- but not you Xavier. Not you. And Jean, Storm…" The look on her face was abhorrence, loathing. Jean paused, looked back to Xavier, but the redhead remained silent, merely staring at Marie. "You would really believe that, Marie? After all we've been through?" "What am I supposed to believe, Jean? That this is for my own good? You're scared of me." Marie stood, laughing harshly. "You've always been scared of me cause you never understood me, cause you can't look in my mind and right away find out what's going on. 'Cause you see what's brimming at the surface and it scares the hell of out of you."

"Marie, that's enough." Xavier snapped, his voice crisp and full of authority. Ororo looked at him askance, looking back to Marie as she pleaded softly, "Please, sit down. We only wish to talk." The angry young woman with the shock of white in her hair grudgingly turned and sat down, teeth bared, her glance cutting to Ororo, looking at her as if she couldn't believe she was in with this. Looking as if she couldn't believe that she could do this after she'd confided in her and asked her advice so often, or that she'd ever counted her as a friend. Her cold, furious eyes turned back to Xavier, staring him down. "So what do you suggest, _Professor_?" she drawled sarcastically, sitting back, crossing her legs, looking almost a shell of the beautiful woman she now was. Her white knuckles betrayed her emotion, fingernails digging into her palm so hard he wouldn't have been surprised to see blood.

Xavier swallowed, feeling the confusion, the anger, the betrayal. '_Marie, we care about you, you know that._' She flinched, shaking her head as if trying to shake the thought out of her mind. Charles wheeled around the desk, his hand on her palms as he gently began, "Give me time." "Give _us_ time," Ororo repeated softly, backing him up, gaze soft and caring like all those other times they had talked. "Time to help you. And help him. Don't rush this." Xavier's eyes were on her, and there was that glint in his eyes that made her aware he was in her mind. By the look on Ororo's face she'd guessed what he was going to do, what he **was** doing, and Marie's gaze on hers was chilling. Her eyes then sharpened on Xavier, glittering coldly.

"You realize that people like their privacy, Charles?" The drawl was her own, mostly, but the tone rang with authority, and immediately she felt him drift out. She shook her head furiously, rising almost regally and walking to the door. _Marie_ She stopped as soon as the single thought from both telepaths, echoed aloud by Ororo, pounded in her head, making her steps falter. She closed her eyes, and waited. "What?" _I'm sorry_ The tears brimmed, and she swallowed, taking a breath, and answering raggedly, "Yeah. I know." And then the door almost broke from the strength she used in slamming it behind her, cutting herself from all of them.

"Marie!" She turned around to see Scott almost jogging after her. She stopped on the top step in front of the grand staircase that would lead her out of there. She folded her arms, tucking away the tears and pain from her encounter with Ororo, Jean and the Professor. And her own confusion. It was so weird to think that, like her sources said and stolen powers confirmed, he'd been just as upset over her disappearance, guilt-ridden. And he liked her? As she had once liked him? He'd even wanted to go after Remy? She shook her head. She didn't like this confusion. Much easier to stick with the anger. "What is it now Scott?" she growled, her voice against her will sounding almost tired, aching. She inwardly winced, features hardening. "Couldn't I just want to talk to you?" he asked, sounding almost tired and frustrated himself. "What could we possibly have to talk about?" she questioned, eyebrow raised, anger flaring.

He sighed, head ducking slightly for a moment, "To start with, I'm sorry?" he said, raising his head. And she saw the truth in his eyes. "Not good enough," she said with a curled lip, remembering the pain he'd caused her. "Never good enough." She had better things to do, people to see, to find…. She turned towards the stairs. "Rogue…" he started, hand flying out to catch her wrist, to stop her, pull her back. And she heard the echo of the Professor in her mind, wanting to talk, to persuade her back to his way of thinking. She jerked her arm and her mind back, moving abruptly, pushing forward. Then she heard a dozen hollow cries as she started falling….. falling down the huge staircase. And her eyes widened, mind frozen, mouth gaping, helpless to stop it. Voices rushed at her… Before stopping suddenly as a cold darkness claimed her. Then all there was was a broken, bleeding body at the end of the grand staircase.

In absolute horror and shock, Scott watched Marie fall, tumbling down the stairs, no one able to help her, something breaking inside him and his hand still out from where he'd reached to grab her. Dozens of younger students watched from the sidelines, from around the stairs, and all he could do was scream inside why weren't they doing anything? Though he knew they were frozen in shock and horror like himself. But then from behind him he heard Jean's gasp, felt her mental probe, footsteps running and he jolted into action. Tears falling without his allowance or without even knowing, he ran to Marie where she lay unconscious and bleeding, throwing himself beside her, cradling her.

He looked up at Jean, seeing the stricken look on her face, looking past it in his panic. "Jean…" he croaked hoarsely. And somehow it seemed as if she knew just how he was feeling, what he was thinking. But of course, she was a telepath and knew him well. Shaking her head as if to clear away a terrible fog, she started shouting orders to everyone that could hear, issuing help like the team leader was unable to. And he looked down at the body in his arms, a hint of possessiveness in his embrace, tears running more freely now as the blood fold and he saw her so still. "Marie!" the voice rung out over the mansion it seemed, but it didn't come from his bloodless lips. Heads jerked up at the Wolverine's roar, seeing him running.

Everyone knew how he cared for her, as a father to a daughter. And everyone held a hint of fear, a slight tremble as he reached them, at the hatred towards them in his eyes- almost as if **they'd** done this to her. But in a way, hadn't they? They stepped backed before they could be skewered, seeing his already claws out. But despite the apparent fury bubbling inside and around him, his concern for Marie was foremost. And Logan looked back to her, and what was in his eyes, the emotion, struck Scott hard. It was almost a palpable force. The older man reached for her, carefully drawing her out of his arms, and Scott couldn't make himself protest however much he wanted to, knowing/fearing the consequences. Logan was especially unstable right now.

The Wolverine's hands passed over Marie's dear, pale face as Scott's had done not long before, as much out of tenderness and torment as wanting her to absorb his healing power. But with her unconscious and with her powers switched off… it was useless. And he just as helpless as the rest of them. "Why isn't someone getting her some help!" he shouted, making them all jump, "I swear to God—" Before he could finish that threat, all hell in his hard gaze, a stretcher rounded the corner and Logan was on his feet with Marie in his arms, placing her on the stretcher. ""Bout damn time," he growled. But he was looking like he wanted to cry as well, rage battling with sorrow. And they carried her off, the two men trailing as well as Kurt and Kitty, who were breaking down, the rest frozen by Logan's glare. And all Scott could do was pray.

That's all for now

Okay, here's the thing, the question: I already figured Rogue/Marie and Remy's baby is a girl, a mutant, and her powers…. Empathic in origin, detection and manipulation/ a sort of hypnosis and definite natural psychic resistance. And a burning touch. That'll be the best of all. She'd be able to control it though… or at least after a while. Sound good? And I was considering about doing a sequel to this, years and years further into the future- about Marie and Remy's baby. What do y'all think?

There might be a romance factor in that story/sequel too (without all the angstyness and drama of this story, you can be sure of that- at least not one tenth of it), or maybe not. But if so, I was thinking the child of one of our other main characters- A Brotherhood member… or that of one of the X-men, would add conflict as Rogue is definitely separating from the X-men, and not on too good terms as you can probably tell. Opinions much appreciated- as much so ideas for who the parents of her possible love interest would be, names and powers ('cause he'll be a mutant for sure). If you like the sequel idea of course and I can get it off the ground, lol.


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